


Assassin's Creed: Misthaven

by DelightfullyDifficult



Category: Once Upon A Time - Fandom
Genre: Captain Swan Big Bang 2017, Explicit Language, F/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2018-12-20 05:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 92,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11914149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelightfullyDifficult/pseuds/DelightfullyDifficult
Summary: For hundreds of years, the Brotherhood of Assassins and the Templar Order have waged war.  For Princess Emma of Misthaven, that war has become personal.  After a mission gone wrong, the Templar Grandmaster, placed a curse on Emma’s son that is slowly killing him.  Emma will stop at nothing to save Henry, even if it means going rogue from the Brotherhood and consorting with pirates.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: A special @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. Last, but not least, this fic wouldn’t exist without the encouragement from @icecubelotr44 every step of the way. All of them deserve all the cookies for dealing with my inability to keep deadlines or write dialog in a coherent manner.

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                The woods that surrounded the Dark Palace were creepy and foreboding to any who dared venture within.  For the nine members of the Assassin Brotherhood who were now carefully sneaking their way through that dark domain, they were only one obstacle on their path.  

                Emma was on foot, moving cautiously among the trees.  Red was nearby, in wolf form, ready to accost any lone soldier they encounter.  Graham was ahead of her, his keen eyes alert for any of the booby traps the forest contained.  Assassins usually worked alone, not in teams, but today’s mission was an exception.   

                The mission was simple intelligence gathering, except that it was to take place at the heart of their enemies’ stronghold.  There was a meeting of high-ranking Templars at Regina’s palace and their mission was to infiltrate and eavesdrop.  There were rumors of a terrible curse in the works and if the Brotherhood was to thwart it, they needed as much information as they could get. 

                Each team had a different entry point to the palace planned.  The hopes was that even if one team failed, another would succeed. Emma and her companions were heading towards the secret entrance her mother, Queen Snow, had told her about.  It was hidden in the woods, with its door concealed in the base of a tree.  It was possible Regina did not know it existed, since only someone with the same blood as the woman who had originally created the path, her many-times Great Grandmother, could open the door. 

                A branch cracked to her right and Emma reacted without thinking, releasing the hidden blade at her wrists in preparation for an attack.  It came from her left and she dropped to avoid the sword swinging at her head.  She didn’t pause before launching her own attack.  Her wrist blade slipped easily through the leather of the Black Knight’s uniform and between their right side ribs.  Her assault bore them fully to the ground.  They struggled, briefly, but she quickly gained the advantage and proceeded to bury her other blade into the neck of her assailant.

                When she stood, she noticed that both Red and Graham were present but had not interfered, for which she was thankful.  Too many of her fellow Assassins tried, unnecessarily, to protect her due to her royal status.  Red gave her a sniff to confirm that she was unharmed, and leaned heavily against her side.  Emma buried a hand in the soft fur of her friend, taking the comfort offered.

                “We are close; we should probably stay closer together from now on,” Graham said, quietly, gesturing to the rough map Emma’s mother had drawn them.  Snow hadn’t been able to remember the exact location of the tree, since she’d used it to escape the palace years ago, not sneak in, but the map gave them a general idea of where it was located.

                Together they proceeded forward, Emma cleaning the knight’s blood from her weapons.  She also reached out with her magic, hoping it would sense to the magical properties of the tree.  After another mile of walking, she began to feel a tingle in her fingers.  One that got weaker when she shifted left and stronger when she turned right instead.  They adjusted their path based on that and soon found a tree that made her fingers spit white sparks.  

                Following her mother’s instructions, Emma sliced a shallow cut across her palm and placed her hand against the trunk of the tree.  Magical energy shot through her and she must have let out a noise in discomfort, for she saw Graham tense next to her and Red let out a low growl.  However, the spell quickly released her and soft, warm feeling permeated throughout her body, almost like a magical hug.  Emma smiled.  The magic had accepted her as kin and the door opened.  The tunnel below that ran below was only wide enough for them to walk single file.  Emma lead; Graham protested at first, until she pointed out that there may be magical barriers only she could disarm along the miles of tunnel ahead.

                Luckily, they encountered no issues and reached the staircase that lead to the palace proper an hour before the meeting was supposed to begin.  Once inside, Red took point, where her heightened sense of smell would help them detect guards.  They were to avoid killing any guards unless absolutely necessary, so that the Order would not know that spies had infiltrated their meeting.

                They only encountered five guards on their way to the War Room, where their informant’s information said the meeting was going to be held.  They had been able to avoid detection from all but one, and that unlucky guard got a dose of sleeping potion and was propped up at his post so that it would appear as if he had fallen asleep while on duty.

                They spread out, each finding their own hidden vantage point to observe the meeting. Emma chose a nook behind a statue, where the deep shadows would hide her.  She found a perverse satisfaction in the fact that the statue she chose was that of the grandfather Regina had killed so many years before.  Leopold was, in some ways, assisting in what could be the downfall of his murderer.

                After what she thought was about an hour, she started to get antsy.  Their information indicated that the meeting was to start at 5pm.  By her reckoning, it was quarter past.  Did they have the wrong room?  Should she remain hidden, hoping that the meeting was only delayed?  She decided to risk a whistle, a simple tune that would inform her partners she wished to speak.  If they agreed it was necessary, they would whistle back and all of them would return to the previously agreed upon meeting point. After a minute or so, she heard Graham and Red’s return whistles and she carefully snuck from her cozy crevice.  But as she made her way along the wall towards the servant’s entrance, the main door opened… and the Evil Queen entered the room with a squadron of Black Knights, Robin Hood, her consort, trailing behind.

                “Well, well, well.  If it’s isn’t the Princess herself.  I was wondering who they would send to spy on my little meeting.” Regina wore a smug grin and Emma felt her blood run cold as she realized that she and her companions had fallen into Regina’s trap.

                “Search the room.  There may be more,” the Evil Queen instructed her guards, “And restrain her.” 

                Emma fought against the knight that came for her and succeeded in killing two, maybe three, before she was swarmed and a blow to the back of head allowed them to subdue her.  Disoriented, she watched as Red, Graham, Wendy, John, and Michael were all dragged into the room. She sent a silent prayer to any god that was listening that the other team had never made it into the Palace and were safe. Regina paced in front of her line of prisoners and Emma tried not to cringe as the Queen ran her fingers along her cheek. 

                “So many of you.   Should I be honored?” Regina grabbed Graham’s chin, lifted his face upwards, and made a sound of approval.  She patted his face as if he was a dog, hard enough to make the usually stoic man flinch.

                “Were you all sent to kill me?” She mused allowed as she ran her hands through Wendy’s hair.  She suddenly grabbed it tight and wretched the girls neck to look her in in the eyes. “Is that it?  Has the Brotherhood finally and decided to get rid of me all together?”

                When Wendy didn’t answer, Regina gave her captive’s head a vicious shake. “Well?”

                “No,” Wendy finally said, “No.”

                Regina released her hold. “How disappointing.”

                Emma shook her head, clearing the last of the cobwebs the knock to the head had caused and began to assess the situation while Regina was distracted with her gloating.  She saw movement above and subtly looking upwards, she spotted Gus moving slowly along the room’s rafters.  The rest of his team, Jack and Jill, must also be about.  It took a moment, but she spotted Jill on a balcony and Jack crouched on the top of a statue.  They were preparing to attack, and Emma tried to shake her head in signal for them to go, run, and survive.  Gus just grinned at her.  He was never any good at taking hints.

                The rescue began with smoke grenades, and under the cover that provided, all three Assassins launched from their perches and started to slaughter the knights in the room.  Emma shifted her arms and released the blade at her wrist. It sliced across the back of her other hand, but it also hit the rope binding her, weakening it enough for her to break it with a sharp jerk.  Once free, she set about releasing the others who could not do it themselves.

                Red threw off her cloak and in an instant began savaging their opponents in her wolf form.  Emma made for the door and made quick work of the few guards in her path.  While she was working on picking the lock, a hand landed on her shoulder and she responded on instinct.  She didn’t realized until it was too late and her blade was buried in his throat that it was Robin Hood who had disturbed her and that in his other hand, he held the key to the door.

                Suddenly, the face in front of her wasn’t Robin’s, but that of Belle, Misthaven’s Royal Librarian.  And though Emma wore no blade, she did have her hand wrapped around her friend’s throat.  Shocked, she released her and stepped back, apologizing profusely.

                “Belle, I’m so sorry.  I don’t know what happened.  I am so very sorry,” she said as she ran a hand down her face.

                “Princess, it’s alright.  I should know better by now,” her  friend said, rubbing her throat with a wry grin. Emma felt a stab of gratitude; Belle was so patient and forgiving.

                Emma realized that she must have fallen asleep in the library, again, and Belle had tried to rouse her.  It must have been the nightmare she’d been having that had caused her to react so violently upon being woken.

                “Princess, are you okay?” Belle asked, concerned.

                “Yes,” Emma  said, and then amended, “No.  I don’t know.”  She took a seat at the table she’d been working at, spell books spread haphazardly about.  She dropped her head into her hands and massaged her temples.  She stayed that way until Belle placed a cup of tea at her elbow.

                “Was it the same nightmare?” Belle asked. “About the mission at the Dark Palace?”

                Emma nodded, sipping the tea.  Nine Assassins had gone on the mission with hopes of gaining vital information for the fight against the Templar Order.  Only three (she, Red, and Gus) had come out of the Dark Palace alive.  The heads of Jack, Jill, Wendy, John, and Michael had decorated the gate to the Dark Palace the following day.  Graham, poor man, had become the Queen’s lap dog, his heart in her possession and his mind under her control.  Regina had saved her worst revenge for Emma though, for killing her consort. 

                Weeks after the mission, Prince Henry, Emma’s son, had begun to feel ill.  In the months that followed, the lad who had once run laps around the castle without feeling tired no longer had the energy to practice his beloved swordplay with his grandfather.  Physicians had no answers for his ailment, but Belle, ever studious, discovered the cause in an ancient spell book.  Regina had cast an obscure blood curse, one that was draining Henry’s strength over the course of a year, forcing Emma to watch her son slowly die.

                The spell to lift the curse required the blood of both Henry’s father and mother.  Emma was more than willing to spill all her blood if it meant her son would live, but Henry’s father, Baelfire, had gone to another realm long before the lad’s birth.

                The search for his paternal grandparents had begun.  Baelfire had once confessed to her that his father, Robert Gold, was a Templar.  As it happened, he was not just a member, but also the son of the Order’s leader, Malcolm Gold.  However, he’d vanished after the death of his father thirteen years ago.

                Thanks to Belle’s unrelenting research, they had found a spell in one of Merlin’s texts allowed them to tie Henry’s strength to her magic.  It kept him alive long after the curse would have killed him.  The payment, though, was that Emma had to be very careful with how she used her magic.  If she over did it and drained herself, there would be no magic for the spell to draw on and Henry would die.  It also wasn’t a permanent solution, as the spell would weaken over time.  They needed to find Robert Gold to save her son.  Which is why she’d spent more and more time in the library with Belle, going over maps and correspondence from across the realms.

                Emma sipped her tea and made a face when she realized that it had gone cold while she’d been stuck in her thoughts. 

                “Emma,” Belle said gently, breaking with formality, “Go to bed. We can start again in the morning.”

                Emma acquiesced, admitting that she would be of no use exhausted as she was.  With a tired smile to Belle, she left the library.  She did not go towards her personal chambers, but instead made her way to Henry’s.

                She sneaked in and gently laid herself down on the bed next to her son. There, she fell asleep, stroking his hair, and her single tear drying on the pillow.

\---

                The next day, she devoted herself to her royal duties, attending diplomatic meetings with representatives from the Kingdom of Midas.  While technically an ally, Midas was still upset over Prince ‘James’ breaking his engagement to his daughter over 30 years ago.  Never mind that Princess Abigail had gone on to marry Frederick, her preferred choice of husband, once he’d been freed from his statuary state.  Now King Midas was proposing a marriage between his grandson, Frederick Jr., and herself. 

                Emma was against arranged marriages on principle, (something that she and her parents agreed on)  but Frederick was an pleasant man.  She might have even entertained the proposal, had she not been preoccupied with the situation with her son.  As it was, she’d spent most of the day politely but firmly not encouraging Midas’ representatives.

                Tired, she once again made her way towards the library, only to have a frantic Belle run straight into her.

                “Princess, Emma. Thank goodness I found you,” the librarian panted.

                “Belle, what is wrong?” Emma grasped Belle’s shoulders to hold her steady.

                Listing her arm, Belle shoved a scrap of paper in Emma’s face. “Mulan found Robert Gold.”

                Unsure she head correctly, Emma squinted at the small carrier bird message Belle held.  It simply read _RG in Camelot, Rumpelstiltskin_ in Mulan’s cramped handwriting.  Emma’s heart skipped a beat.

                Mulan was a fellow Assassin who was currently undercover with a Templar gang known as The Merry Men.  They traveled through all the Kingdoms, wreaking havoc on behalf of the Order.  Mulan tried to send them advance notice of their movement so the Brotherhood could interfere before too many people died.  If the message was true, Mulan was putting herself in danger by informing her and Belle before the Brotherhood, who had ordered all Assassins to either kill Robert Gold or report his location to the Brotherhood’s Master members immediately.

                “Rumpelstiltskin? What does that mean?”

                “There have been rumors of a man named Rumpelstiltskin setting himself up as Court Sorcerer in Camelot for the past few month,” Belle informed her.

                “Robert must have taken on a new identity.  No wonder he was so hard to find,” Emma  cursed. “But why does it have to be Camelot?  It’ll take months to get there and back on horseback.”

                Emma grasped her necklace.  It was in the shape of a rose and was tied to the spell between she and her son.  As the spell weakened, the rose lost petals, so the necklace served as a way to track how much longer the spell would likely last.  A year after the spell was cast it now had nine of the original twenty remaining.

                “Perhaps Captain Nemo can help?  He says _The Nautilus_ is the fastest ship in all the realms.”

                 Together, they headed towards the Captain’s office, Emma thinking on how to word her request.  Though friendly with her family, Nemo was an Assassin loyal to the Brotherhood first and foremost.  While he was aware of the nature of the curse that afflicted her son, he had not been one of the few people trusted with the knowledge of how to break it.  It would be his duty to inform the Brotherhood of Robert Gold’s location, should he know it, and that would prevent her from getting to him first.

                His young apprentice, Liam, answered their knock and brought them to Nemo.  The Captain was behind his desk, which had numerous maps and sea charts spread about. 

                He stood and gave her a perfect bow in greeting her. “Princess.  How may I assist you?”

                “Captain.  There is a rumor that Robert Gold may be hiding in Camelot.  I was hoping you might be able to assist me on a voyage to the kingdom to see if the rumors are true.”

                He frowned at them. “Have you made the Masters aware of this?”

                She shrugged, trying to appear casual. “It’s only a rumor.  I don’t wish to bother them with information that may prove untrue.”

                He nodded. “I cannot set off on such a voyage without instructions from the Brotherhood,” The captain looked genuinely sorry at his inability to help her. “I can, however, give you the name of a Captain who may be willing to take the job, despite the lateness of the season. For the right price, of course.”

\---                 

                 “A pirate?  Of all the captains Nemo must know, he recommends a pirate?” Red practically shouted as she watched Emma pack a saddlebag.  It would be a two days’ ride to Alexandria, in the Kingdom of Briar, which was where Nemo said she was mostly likely to find Captain Hook at this time of year.

                “Yes, a pirate. Now are you going to help me or not?” Emma snapped.  She wanted Red to ride west with Dorothy, dressed in Emma’s clothes, as a decoy to throw off the Brotherhood.

                “Of course I’m going to help you, but not as a distraction.  I’m going with you to Alexandria.”

                “Red, no.  There is no need for both of us to go.  I can manage on my own,” Emma objected.

                “I’m not saying you can’t, but I’m still going.  I’ll cover your back, gather some information on this Captain Hook, and help you decide whether he is trustworthy.”

                Realizing this was an argument she wasn’t going to win, Emma submitted, honored to have such a loyal friend.

                Once the two of them were packed, Emma went to inform her parents of what she had planned.  They were not impressed, to say the least. 

                “Emma, sweetie, are you sure about this?” Queen Snow asked, clutching her husband’s hand.

                “Mulan wouldn’t lead us wrong.  This may be the best chance we have of getting to Robert Gold in time to save Henry.”

                “We understand, but you’re going against the orders of the Brotherhood.  If you succeed, they may consider you a traitor,” he father warned.

                “I’ll deal with it if it comes to that.”

                Though neither of them were members of the Brotherhood, the Assassins had been instrumental in helping Snow stay hidden from Queen Regina, and later helped her and David stage a coup on the Kingdom of Misthaven, unseating King George, David’s ‘father’.  In return, the Assassins maintained a headquarters in the Kingdom to assist in their fight against the Templars.  Her parent’s been thrilled when Emma had expressed a desire to join the when she was sixteen. It was a risky position, for the heir to a kingdom, but she had persisted.           

                “I’ll need money, to pay for the voyage.  I know this isn’t official kingdom business but…” she trailed off.

                “Of course darling.  Henry is your son, and also this Kingdom’s heir.  You can have anything you need,” her mother said.  Her father nodded.

                With their blessing, and funds, gained, Emma had one more goodbye.  Henry was in the library with Belle, studying the economic history of the Kingdom. Unable to be as physically active as he once had been, her son had thrown himself into his studies.  He would be an amazing King one day.

                “Belle, sorry to disturb the lesson, but I need to speak with Henry a moment.”

                “Of course Princess,” the librarian said. “I’ll go make some tea.”

                “Mom! Care to learn about cattle trade with Briar 100 years ago?” her son asked, sounding genuinely excited about the topic.  She smiled.

                “Another time, kid.  I’m afraid I have some bad news,” she said gently.  His face fell and it hurt her heart to watch. “I have to go away for a bit, to Camelot.  There may be something there that can help you.” She didn’t like not telling the entire truth, but she hadn’t told her son that his grandfather was an evil sorcerer with a death sentence on his head.

                “Camelot? Are you going to see King Arthur?” Henry asked with excitement.

                “Maybe, if he’s available.  Would you like me to bring you anything back?” When she traveled, Emma liked to bring her son little trinkets from the other Kingdoms.  Henry always carried the bejeweled dagger she’d got him in Agrabah hanging on his belt.

                “There is a flower, called Middlemist, that grows only in Camelot.  Will you bring me one?  It doesn’t have to be alive; a pressing would do,” he rambled.

                “I’ll do my best, kid.” She pulled him close and kissed the top of his head, not wanting to let him go.  After a minute, she did, and prayed to all the gods that her mission was a success so that she would have many more years with her son.

\---

                Before Emma could leave Misthaven, there was one specific item she needed to collect if she had any hope of bringing Rumpelstiltskin back.  When Queen Regina had risen to the position of Templar Grandmaster, she had become the first sorcerer achieve that level of influence within the Order.  Fearful of what she would be capable of with her new power, the Brotherhood of Assassins had commissioned a blacksmith to create a set of chains capable of restraining a powerful sorcerer.  The blacksmith begun by experimenting with squid ink, a substance known to interfere with dark magic users.  Eventually she produced a set of manacles that, when placed on the wrists of a dark sorcerer, would render them unable to access their powers.

               These chains had been entrusted by the Brotherhood to the royal family of Misthaven for safe keeping and were kept in the castle’s Royal Vault.  Though Emma had her parent’s permission to utilize any of the Kingdom’s resources for her mission, the chains were not technically property of the Kingdom, and therefore not her parent’s to lend out.

                So, the night before her and Red’s departure from Misthaven, Emma broke into the Royal Vault of the Kingdom of Misthaven and took the squid ink forged chains from within.  Though Emma rarely used any magic that qualified as dark, touching the chains made her skin burn.  Even being near them was uncomfortable, making her itch, so she wrapped them in layers of cloth and stowed them in her armoire.

                The next day, with the pilfered chains secure in her saddlebag, Emma and Red set off for the city of Alexandria in search of the renowned pirate, Captain Hook.

\---

\------------------------------------------------

                Perched atop the roof of the famous library in the city of Alexandria, Emma had a perfect view of the city’s busy docks through her spyglass.  This was where Captain Nemo had said _The Jolly Roger_ was likely to be this time of year.  Her Captain, the notorious Hook, was apparently fond of the city and its library.  He would return a few times a year-more often, during the storm season. 

                Nemo had described _The Jolly Roger_ as a brig painted with blue, brown, and yellow trim.  A lovely lady, he had said, that was well cared for by her Captain and crew.  This had obviously been an important factor in his decision to recommend her Captain to Emma as a possibly ally in her quest to retrieve Robert Gold from Camelot.

                Near-silent footsteps to her right caused Emma, already on edge, to reach for a knife from her boot. Then she recognized Red’s step and relaxed.

                “Any luck?” her friend asked as she crouched down next to Emma.

               Removing the spyglass from her eye, Emma sighed and shook her head.  There was no ship currently at the docks that fit Nemo’s description. 

               “According to the innkeeper at The Cock and Hen, Hook usually returns to the city in search of smuggling work, since the merchant ships avoid sailing during autumn, when the weather is unpredictable.  He doesn’t like to bring attention to himself or his ship though, so he may make port later in the evening, possibly after nightfall.”  Red pulled a wrapped bundle from inside her cloak and passed Emma a pie.

               "From a street vendor,” Red added, nodding at the pie.

               “Was he able to tell you anything about what type of man this Hook is?” Emma mused, as she took a bite of the pie. 

               “You don’t trust Nemo’s opinion of him?”

               “Nemo is a decent judge of character, but he tends only to see the best in people.  He may be blinded by a person’s potential and not really see who they are at the moment,” Emma  said, thinking back to Walsh.  The carpenter had been introduced to the Brotherhood by Nemo and had been an ally of a sort for a number of years, but had betrayed  the Assassin Brotherhood, revealing their mission to Regina and beginning the chain of events that resulted in Robin’s death.

               “Hook is a regular at the Cock and Hen.  Always pays his tab and is a favorite of the ladies.  He doesn’t get involved in many brawls, unless he has a good reason.  Apparently, he does a lot of business with the Library, bringing them rare books,” Red explained.

               Emma nodded, finishing her pie.  Everything Red had learned fit with the information Nemo had provided her.  A gentleman pirate who reportedly had a sense of honor and honored good form, Hook had brought himself to Nemo’s attention three years ago, searching for a young Misthaven lad whose father had died in a brawl some ten years previously.  The lad, Liam, had become Nemo’s apprentice some years later, so the Assassin Captain had looked into the curious pirate seeking him.  Hook had confessed to have been involved in the brawl and said he felt responsible for the man’s death.  Knowing that Liam himself had sought revenge on “the hook handed man” he blamed for his father’s death, Nemo had not wanted to risk the two meeting, so he’d assured the pirate that the lad was well cared for but refused to divulge Liam’s location.  Hook had appeared to accept this information, but had continued seeking the lad, so Nemo had kept an eye on him.

               Brushing crumbs from her fingers, Emma lifted her spyglass again as she noticed a ship round the cliffs that bracketed the cove.  Her heart skipped a beat; the ship matched the description of _The Jolly Roger_.  She silently passed the spyglass to Red, who took a quick look and handed the spyglass back, nodding her agreement.

               Together, they scaled down the side of the large library and made their way across the rooftops to another vantage point closer to the docks.  They settled on the ledge of the town’s clock tower.

               Emma watched the ship sail into port and when it was close enough, she had a clear view of the figures on the ships deck through her spyglass.  Most were scurrying about, doing whatever it was sailors did to make a ship ready to dock.  One, however, stood calmly at the helm, turning it slightly to steer the ship into port.  He was tall, dark haired, and clad in what looked to be in head to toe black leather.  And it wasn’t a hand he had on the helm, but a shining metal hook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cover by Utopiozphere and Cocohook38.  
> Chapter Art by Cocohook38  
> Other Art by Utopiozphere can be found at http://utopiozphere.tumblr.com/post/164632705358/assassins-creed-misthaven-chibis-hooded-and
> 
> I'll be posting every Saturday until sometime in December!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, my beta preciouscucumber deserve the warmest thanks for her hard work making this readable! So do my artists cocohook38 and utopiozphere, for giving us beautiful art to look at! And finally, icecubelotr44 for all of her encouragement.

_\------------------------------------------------------------_

 

_Captain Hook,_

_I am in need of discreet services. If you are interested in a lucrative business proposition, come to the Rabbit Hole at 9pm this evening.  A woman wearing a red cloak will be waiting for you._

Killian Jones, more commonly known as Captain Hook, held the curious missive in his hand as he contemplated its contents.  Written on rough parchment and sealed with a simple blob of red wax, the letter itself was unremarkable.  However, it was uncommon for him to receive written invitations to clandestine meetings and the “discreet services” part made him instantly suspicious.  Additionally, the dock urchin who had delivered it had been unable to describe the person who had paid him, saying only that the figure had worn a hood and appeared to be male.  He placed the note on his desk and took a swig of rum from his flask, savoring the soft burn.

“Mister Smee!” Hook called out to one of the crewmembers he knew was still aboard the Jolly Roger.  He sighed at the resulting thumps and crashes his summons elicited.  When the nervous man appeared, he asked, “How many men do we still have signed on as crew?” 

It was autumn and the season brought with it more frequent and severe storms.  As a result, only the most dedicated, or desperate, sailors remained aboard the ships that did not go to dry dock for the season.  Hook didn’t enjoy spending a season on land, so he’d brought his ship and crew north, where the storms caused less problems.

“Fifteen men, Captain.”  Smee may not be the most trustworthy member of his crew, but he had a knack for knowing what was going on aboard the ship.

“And the chances of us recruiting a few more?”

“The Wyatt brothers and a few others could probably be persuaded, with enough of an incentive” Smee admitted, shrugging,  “But why? You said we would only be doing some honest smuggling and wouldn’t need a large crew.”

“A possible opportunity has arisen. Make some inquiries and put the word out that we may be seeking crew.”

Smee nodded, looking confused, and left the cabin.

Suspicious or not, a job was a job.  He would attend the arranged meeting and get the particulars, then make his decision. 

_\------------------------_ _\------------------------_

\---

The Rabbit Hole was a dingy tavern close to the docks, and had a reputation as a good place to do shady business. As long as patrons paid their tabs and kept violence to a minimum, the tavern keeper turned a blind eye to any dealings of questionable legality.

Hook entered through the main door, his eyes quickly scanning the tavern's main room for the woman with a red cloak the letter had mentioned.  He spotted her leaning over at the bar, where the man behind it, busy ogling the feminine assets her chemise was ill-equipped to hide, didn’t appear to notice her slim hand snagging a bottle of rum from behind the counter.  A fine rum too, one of Hook’s favorites from the Southern Isles, and he found himself hoping that she would be willing to share her spoils. 

As he approached, he also took note of the dagger hanging from her belt, mostly hidden from sight by the folds of her cloak.  She was a wise woman to arm herself in this part of town.

“M’lady,” he said in a low voice as he drew close. “I believe you have need of my services?”

The hood of the cloak fell back as the woman turned her head, revealing a lovely face framed by a dark fall of curls.  He could feel her gaze as eyes with a mischievous gleam gave him a once-over, pausing for only a moment at the end of his left arm, where the inspiration for his nom de guerre rested.  When she finished, her plump lips curved into a wicked smile.

“I can think of plenty of services you could do for me, handsome, but I am afraid I am not the one in need of them,” the woman said, trailing one of her nimble fingers down the buttons of his greatcoat. “I am only here to lead you to your benefactor.”

“I will follow you wherever you wish to go, love,” he said with a bow, holding out his hand to indicate that she should lead.  With one last smirk, his contact turned her back on him as if she had not a care in the world, something that few people were willing to do.  That action, along with the manner in which she carried herself, led him to believe that she was far more than just a powerful person’s lackey.  They left the main room of the tavern and navigated the narrow hallway to a private dining hall. 

They were nearing the dining room door when he spotted another sign that not all was what it seemed; a hint of leather, imperfectly concealed by the fabric of her sleeve, and a glint of steel, reflecting the flame of a lamp.   His eyes immediately went to his guide’s left hand and he tensed, spotting a silver signet ring bearing the unmistakable insignia of the Brotherhood of Assassins. 

The former Templar in him instantly wanted to sink his hook into the neck of the Assassin in front of him: part of him, however, was intrigued as to why members of the Brotherhood would be seeking outside assistance. 

The Assassin paused, her hand on the handle to the room beyond, and gave him another assessing look.  This one was no survey of his aesthetic features, but more calculating, and he knew that she was determining whether he was a danger to the person beyond.  He flashed his most charming smile, and tried not to appear as if the very idea of meeting with assassins had set his teeth on edge.

Having apparently passed this final approval, his guide turned the handle and he was ushered into the company of his client.  The lady in red preceded him into the room and approached the wing-backed chairs that were positioned in front of a roaring fire.  She had a quiet word with a figure in the chair and then retreated to a corner of the room. 

“Captain Hook, thank you for coming,” said the figure, as she stood to greet him.  This new woman, presumably his client, wore a simple tunic, belted at the waist, and plain trousers: but she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever beheld. 

Stunning green eyes topped high cheekbones and he longed to kiss her finely shaped brows and pink lips, to run his fingers through the golden hair cascading over her shoulders.

She also wore a silver signet ring with the mark of the Brotherhood of Assassins, but he could see no sign of a vambrace or hidden blade underneath the sleeves of the simple tunic she wore.  While that did not make her unarmed by any means, the lack of the Order’s signature weapon indicated that she did not expect a fight, which set him slightly at ease.

“At your service, m’lady.” He gave a short bow, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Would you care for a drink?” she asked politely, holding up the bottle of rum he had watched her companion pilfer from the bar keep.

“I never turn down drinks with a gorgeous woman.  And please, allow me.” He stepped forward and retrieved the bottle from her hands.  He deftly cut the wax sealing the top with his hook, quickly checking for any signs of tampering, and pried the cork from the bottle.  He handed it back to her with a flourish and he was rewarded with a soft smile as she poured two glasses. 

She returned to her seat and, with a lazy wave of her hand, indicated that he could do that same.  He hesitated.  Seating himself would put his back to the door and the rest of the dining room, against which his survival instincts screamed.  Instead, he leaned against the wall next to the fireplace, enjoying a full view of the room and his lovely companion.  Said companion raised a delicate brow at his choice, but seemed to take no insult. 

“Captain, you may call me Swan, and as my letter stated, I have a business proposition for you,” she explained. “I am in need of transport to the Kingdom of Camelot.  There, I intend to abduct a sorcerer known as Rumpelstiltskin, and I may need assistance in doing so.  After, I will need transport for the both of us to the Kingdom of Misthaven.”

Killian frowned. Although he appreciated her honesty about the illegality of her intended actions-he had had jobs go south because he’d been deprived of essential information--Camelot wasn’t a difficult journey, but it could be a long one.  He frowned as he digested her intended destination.  

“It would take a month, at least, to sail to Camelot,” he informed her, “and just as long to sail back.” He sipped from his glass, rolling the spicy rum across his tongue.

“A month?” Miss Swan said, surprised. “It only takes just over a fortnight to sail to Camelot from Arandelle, which is further away.”

“In spring or summer, sure. But we would need to hug the coast to avoid the worst of the autumn storms and to make port if needed.”

She nodded, frowning, but appeared to accept his assessment. 

“The man you intend to capture, this Rumpelstiltskin: I assume he is dangerous?” Killian asked. He wasn’t fond of sorcerers; not since Robert Gold, the sorcerer son of the head of the Templar Order, had killed Milah and chopped off Hook’s hand. 

Swan nodded again and Killian enjoyed the way the firelight cast her hair in a reddish hue.

“He is a powerful and ruthless sorcerer.  He has knowledge and experience in magics that most spell-casters do not even dream of attempting.” A crease had appeared between her brows as she spoke. “He’s set himself up as Camelot’s court sorcerer on a promise to recreate the Holy Grail and restore the Kingdom to its former glory.  Gaining access to him will not be easy.”

_"_ My men and I are not opposed to a bit of violence, when the need arises, or when there is proper compensation,” he declared, with a wiggle of his brows and a smirk.

The lady in red rolled her eyes at his antics as she produced a satchel from underneath her cloak but Miss Swan accepted the satchel without comment.  It made a satisfying clink when she set it on the table next to the bottle of rum.

“Two hundred and fifty gold doubloons now, to ensure your services and procure provisions. You will receive two hundred and fifty more when we reach Camelot, and another five hundred when we return, safely, to Misthaven.”

Hook nearly choked. A thousand gold doubloons was what he and his crew expected to make from some of their best catches when out pirating at the peak of the trade season.  And even then, each man of his usually 70-person crew walked away pleasantly more wealthy after repairs to _The Jolly Roger_ were made, if she had taken any damage when subduing the prize.  This venture wouldn’t require a large crew, 25 or 30; enough to sail the ship and have men to spare to for fighting, should it be needed. 

Quickly doing the math, Killian determined this was an acceptable price. The pirate in him, however, wanted to see just how much he could drive the offer up.

“That is a very generous offer, milady,” he admitted, and tossed back his remaining rum. “But this late in the season, adequate supplies will be harder to obtain and more expensive.  And good men will need a large incentive to sign onto a crew sailing south.”

Whatever he’d been hoping she would offer in addition to the gold, the next words out of Miss Swan’s mouth changed everything.

“Would the location of Liam Jones be adequate?”

\---

                Emma watched, fascinated, as the affable scoundrel in front of her disappeared.  Hook had immediately tensed at her words and she’d seen his hand twitch towards the sword at his hip.  Suddenly, he laughed, an unpleasant, rough sound.

                “Fucking assassins,” he spat, “holding onto information until revealing it is to their own benefit.”

                Emma stood, reacting instantly to the threat an angry pirate could pose.  She heard Red move as well, preparing to have her back if it came to that. 

                “Captain Hook, Nemo assured me that it was his decision, not that of the Brotherhood, to keep Liam’s location from you,” she said, calmly. “It was always his intention to provide you with it, when the time was right.”

                “Really? Or until it became of greater value and he could use it to his, and the Brotherhood’s, advantage?” He snarled.

                Unwilling to be the target of his anger, Emma collected the bag of gold and turned towards the door “Think on my offer, Captain.  Speak to your crew.  If you find my terms to be satisfactory, meet me back here tomorrow, same time.”

                With that, she walked out; Red following close on her heels. 

\---

As soon as Miss Swan and the Lady in Red left, Killian collapsed in the chair he had eschewed earlier, his anger draining and replacing with regret.  He grabbed the bottle of rum and took a long, strong pull.  He shouldn’t have snapped at his prospective patron as he had.  A thousand  gold doubloons was almost twice what he and his crew would normally make during the slow sailing season, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done exactly what the Brotherhood was doing now, concealing information from others until it was of use to him.  Hell, he’d probably blackmailed a dozen port officers this year alone. 

The mention of Liam had thrown him off his game, unexpected as it was.  He’d continued searching for his younger brother after Nemo had refused to give him a location three years ago, but had had no luck.  People in the tavern’s town remembered the lad, but there was no consensus on what happened to him after his father’s death.  Some had said he’d been taken by a workhouse, others insisted he’d run off to join a group of bandits, and one man had claimed that the kid had been taken in by Misthaven’s royal family, to serve as companion to the young prince.

Wherever he was, Killian felt responsible for the death of their father and thus it was his obligation to care for his brother, just as the older Liam had cared for him after their father’s abandonment.

Abandonment was an understatement for what their father had done to him and Liam.  Brennan had taken him and his brother aboard the Hispaniola, ostensibly to sail to a new home.  However, the following morning, he and Liam found that their father had sold them to Captain Silver, The Templar Order’s premier Captain.  In return, Brennan had gotten a fresh start away from his debts and his sons.  Killian had fought back tooth and nail against their new masters, scrappy little child that he had been.  Liam, always the more level-headed of the Jones brothers, had figured out how to benefit from their new situation. While Killian spent most of his first year in the brig for trying to run away, Liam had thrown himself into sailing.  He learned anything anyone would teach him.  Swordplay, navigation, dicing; he studied it all.  Eventually, with Liam’s careful guidance, Killian had followed his brother’s lead and become more of an asset to the crew instead of a hindrance. 

Within a few years, their efforts earned them a spot as crew aboard _The Morrigan_ , under Captain Shay Cormac.  This was where Killian and Liam had begun their true training as members of the Templar Order.  Liam had eaten it all up, while Killian had remained wary of a group that claimed to make the world a better place by limiting people’s freedoms.  He stayed, though, because of Liam.  At least until the disastrous voyage to Neverland in search of Dreamshade had claimed his brother’s life.

                Shaking himself from memory lane, Killian reached again for the rum, only to realize he’d already drank half the bottle.  Any more and he’d find himself too far gone to give Swan’s offer the consideration it deserved.  Not that he was inclined to turn it down.  The possibility of getting his younger brother’s location and living up to his older brother’s example was too much to pass up. 

\---

                “I like him,” Red said as they arrived in their room at the boarding house where they were staying.

Emma gave a very unlady-like snort, unsurprised. “Of course you do.” Though Emma knew her friend was was very loyal to her wife, Red was an unrepentant flirt, and Hook was all that Red desired in a man; tall, scruffy, full of attitude, and a bit of danger. 

Her friend punched her arm in retaliation. “Not just because he’s a gorgeous specimen of a man.  Though I wouldn’t mind spending a few months in close quarters with him.”

“You wouldn’t, but I’m sure Dorothy would have something to say about it.”

Red laughed, “That she would.  I’d be sleeping in the kennels for weeks,” Red sobered, though, as she thought about her wife, who was back home helping tend Henry, “But in all seriousness, I think Hook is the right choice for this.  His reputation speaks for itself on his competency as a sailor and fighter.  He knows what he is doing.  And he’s smart; to have figured out we are with the Brotherhood.”

Emma rubbed a hand across her face, bothered by the ease with which the Captain had named them assassins of the Brotherhood.  Obviously he had had dealings with the Brotherhood before through Nemo, but based upon Nemo’s explanation, it hadn’t been an extensive meeting: just enough to get a feel for the pirate.  So, how, then was the man able to call them out so quickly?  Either he’d had additional contact with the Brotherhood she was unaware of, or he was familiar with their enemy, the Templar Order. 

Thoughts of the Templar Order brought her up short as she paced the room.  The only people who spotted assassins with ease were Templars.

“Could he be a Templar?” she mused aloud as she stared out the window towards the docks.

“A Templar?” Red replied, pulling a brush through her hair.  “He’d have killed us the instant he realized we were Assassins.”

Emma sighed, knowing her friend spoke the truth.  Few meetings between Assassins and Templars ended with no deaths.  However, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Captain Hook’s association with the Brotherhood than she knew.

“I’m going out,” she said as she pulled a dark cloak on over the simple outfit she’d worn to the meeting. 

Red paused, halfway out of her chemise. “Would you like company?”

“No, I’m just…”

“Going to the docks to spy on Captain Hook.” Red finished undressing and slipped under the covers of one of the beds. “Go.  Ponder whatever mystery if bothering you about him.  I know you won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”

Emma smiled, glad her friend knew her so well, and silently slipped out the window and onto the street below. 

\---

Though she didn’t know much about ships, even Emma could tell that _The Jolly Roger_ was a magnificent vessel.  She looked unimposing, with her sails furled, ropes coiled, and only a lone crewmember keeping watch on deck.  However, she was rumored to be made of enchanted wood and able to outrun even King Eric’s fearsome navy. 

                She’d gotten to the docks in time to see Captain Hook returning to his ship, the bottle of rum Red had liberated at The Rabbit Hole clutched in his hand.  It looked half-empty.  Depending on his tolerance, he was either pleasantly on his way to being drunk or already there.  He’d gone straight down a hatch by the helm to what she figured was the Captain’s cabin, if the ship had the same basic layout as ones she’d sailed on before. He hadn’t reemerged in the hour she’d been watching, so she was debating whether it was safe to sneak aboard to have a look around. 

                Deciding to risk it, she took a circuitous route down the docks to the berth where _The Jolly Roger_ was moored.  She hid beside some barrels near the forward bow and with a carefully time jump, launched herself toward the area below bowsprit.  She grabbed one of the four rails and her nails dug into the wood as her feet scrambled for purchase against the slick wood.  Once secure, she climbed slowly until she could peek above the side.  The crewmember on guard was pacing the length of the ship, so Emma retreated when he came near.  Onehanded, she carefully loaded a dart laced with a strong sleeping potion into her blowgun.  On the crewman’s next pass, she waited until his back was turned and fired the dart into his neck.

He let out a quick “what the…” then began to collapse, but she was there to catch him as he fell.  Thankfully, he wasn’t a large man, so she was able to shift him easily to the deck without a sound.  She left him there, partially hidden among some rope.

Being a pirate ship, _The Jolly Roger_ was well armed. There were 14 cannons on the main-deck, six each on the starboard and port sides, and two more closer to the front of the bow.  She’d spotted cannon holes near the aft of the lower deck as well, so she suspect there were more below.  It was almost overkill to have so many guns.  Captain Hook’s reputation was so fearsome that most ships would surrender once they figured out it was _The Jolly Roger_ that chased them.  

                Everything she heard about the Captain made him seem like exactly what she needed for this mission… and that made her wary.  She’d offered him the job, but she wanted more information before it was official.

She made her way towards the hatch she hoped led to the decks below.  She heard no noise coming through so she lifted it slowly, set it aside, and poked her head through.  It appeared empty, so she carefully lowered herself through the hatch.  She landed in a crouch and remained still, prepared for any surprises.  When none appeared, she rose and began poking around.  This deck was just as organized as the one above.  Folded canvas hammocks hanged between the beams of the ceiling, so she assumed this was where the crew slept while at sea.  Emma riffled through one of the crates against the hull, finding metal plates, bowls, cups, and cutlery.  Apparently, this was where the crew ate as well.

Distracted by her snooping, she didn’t hear the creak of the wood behind her until the edge of a sword was caressing the curve of her neck.

\---

                “Stand up, slowly, and keep your hands where I can see them,” Hook said to the hooded intruder currently riffling through his crew’s dinnerware.  He heard a very low, feminine curse and was surprised when the hood fell back to reveal Miss Swan as she stood. 

“It’s bad form, lass, to come aboard a ship without the Captain’s permission.”

“My apologies, Captain.” She couldn’t have sounded more insincere if she had tried.

                He sheathed his sword and rubbed his hand across his face to wake himself up a bit.  He’d been dozing in his cabin over when he’d heard noises from what should have been an empty deck.  He’d expected to find Logan, who was on watch, sneaking down in search of a snack. 

                Remembering the crewman who should have prevented any from sneaking aboard his ship, he asked, “Is my watchman alive or shall I need to find another?” He hoped Logan was alive.  The young man was one of the more reliable members of his crew.

                “He’ll have a headache in the morning, but he’ll be no worse the wear.”

                He nodded, pleased. “Thank you for that.”

                “I may be an assassin, Captain, but I do not like killing if I don’t have too.” Her words had a bit of spice to them, which piqued his curiosity, but now was not the time to uncover the story behind that reaction.  Instead, he asked the question that had been burning in his mind all evening.

                “You are an Assassin, meaning you have the resources of the Brotherhood behind you, but you are seeking external help for your mission.  This leads me to believe that said mission is not completely above board.  Have you gone rogue, m’lady?”

                “You’re supposed to be a simple pirate, but you made my companion and myself as Assassins within minutes,” his lovely trespasser countered.

                He laughed, full and loud.  Touché.

                “Step into my cabin, Miss Swan, and let’s continue our discussion from earlier, shall we?” He invited, gesturing with his hook toward the doorway behind him.

                Hesitantly, she followed.  Gentleman that he was, he pulled out her chair for her and made sure she was comfortable before rolling up the maps that were spread out across the table.  He placed the bottle of rum from earlier before her, as well as a two glasses and a pitcher of water before taking a seat of his own.  She opted for the water.

                Figuring he owed her for losing his temper earlier, he started, “I’ve had more experience with the Brotherhood than Captain Nemo may been aware.  I am a long time acquaintance of Captain Kenway.  We once both had our eye on the same lass one night.  We had words initially, but eventually, good times were had by all,” he said with a lascivious grin.

                That earned him a small smile. “After that, we kept in touch,” Hook continued.  “Trade information on prizes, mostly.” 

                “I am not on a mission that has been approved by the Brotherhood.  They have a kill order on Rumpelstiltskin and I have need of him alive.  Thus, I am unable to utilize their resources.  I have, in fact, gone out of my way to ensure that they have no idea what I am currently about,” Miss Swan admitted.

                He nodded, understanding.  It was hard to serve a master whose ideals didn’t always match your own.

                “Don’t get me wrong, Captain.  I am fully committed to the goals of the Brotherhood.  However, their refusal to reconsider their ruling on Rumpelstiltskin will put innocent lives at stake,” she continued, her eyes lighting with resolve , the dim light of his cabin lending them a stunning gleam.

                “A noble quest, lass,” he conceded, and raised his glass of rum in salute.  She rolled her eyes, but raised her water in return.

                “So Captain, are you willing to take the job?”

                “For a thousand gold doubloons and the location of Liam Jones, I accept the terms of your offer, Miss Swan.” He offered his hand across the table to shake on their deal, and swore he felt a small spark the instant their fingers touched.

                Now that there deal was struck, he escorted her off _The Jolly Roger_.  “We will leave at dawn in two days’ time.  Send word if you believe you are being watched, and we’ll find a way to sneak you aboard,” he said as he walked her down the gangplank.

                Emma nodded and adjusted her hood as a stiff wind tried to blow it off.  Ever the showman, Hook gave her a courtly bow and placed a kiss on her hand, before making to return to his ship.  He stopped and warned, “Come aboard my ship without permission again, lass, and I’ll throw you in the brig.”

\---

                Emma told Red about her adventure aboard _The Jolly Roger_ the next morning over breakfast.  Red had been so amused by the fact that Hook had managed to sneak up on her that she earned a few scathing looks from their fellow diners because of her laughter. 

                Over the next two days, Emma collected any supplies she imagined she would need for the next few months.  She restocked her small medical kit with herbs and bandages.  Because Alexandria was a popular port town, she was even able to find the rarer herbs she used in her poisons and sleeping draughts.  When Emma returned to the boarding house, Red was pacing across their rented room. 

                “Emma, I spotted Gus at the docks.  I’m afraid you’re going to need to take the Captain up on his clandestine boarding plan.”

                Emma groaned time in annoyance.

                “Could he be here on a completely separate mission?  Or is that too much to hope for?” she asked.

                Red just shrugged in reply.  It was possible.  However, was it worth taking the risk?  Emma sighed and composed a quick letter to Captain Hook. 

                Later that evening, Emma and Red carefully snuck out of their boarding house and to a storage warehouse by the docks.  There, they said their goodbyes.  Friends for years, there was little need for words.  “Be safe” was all they said as they just hugged each other tight.  Red would ride out in the morning, just after dawn, with a blonde maid named Ashley disguised as Emma.  They would head south, toward Midas, and if Gus was tailing them, he would hopefully follow.

                After Red was gone, Captain Hook and a Mr. Smee helped Emma climb into a partially empty orange barrel.  She felt bad about squishing the fruit that would be part of the crew’s rations for however long their journey was.  At least she did, until more oranges were poured around her and the lid sealed above her head.  Though she had dealt with her fair share of small hiding spaces, she felt her heartbeat speed up in response to her current circumstances.

                “Have no worries, Miss Swan.  We will have you out as soon as the barrel is in the hold,” she heard Hook say.

                She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing as the barrel was tilted and rolled on its edge.  When the barrel stopped, she could hear the crewmen talking about predictions for the weather and other inane topics as the goods were roped together.  Ropes creaked and the platform shook and she imagined she could feel herself being lifted.  Her nails dug crescents moons in her palms as her world tilted, but only for a few moments before she was upright again. 

                The journey from warehouse to hold couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes, at most, but Emma was more than ready to be out of the barrel when Hook removed the lid.  She stood quickly, spilling oranges everywhere and was bodily lifted by the Captain out of her hiding spot.  Once back on her feet, she stood, disoriented, and remained holding onto his arms as she caught her breath.

                “That its lass. Take a few deep breaths.  That’s it,” she could hear Hook saying.  Her breathing slowed and once she felt more like herself she stepped back and away.

                “Thank you,” she said.

                Hook nodded. “Anytime, lass.  Please, allow me to show you about your home for the next few months.  This is the hold, and the lowest level of _The Jolly Roger_.  No one but myself, the cook, and the quartermaster are allowed down here unescorted.  The brig is forward, and that is where we shall keep your-” he paused a moment “-companion… after we leave Camelot.”

                She followed him up a steep stairway to what he told her was the Orlop deck.  Her private quarters were aft on this deck, next to sickbay. 

“Our resident surgeon fancies himself a quite the ladies’ man, so you may want to watch out for him.  I’m sure you’ll have no problem dealing with him.” He glanced with amusement at her blades, covered by her sleeves, before continuing, “Storage for arms and ammunition is forward, in a secure room, though the powder magazine is below in the hold.” 

                Going up another staircase brought them the deckwhere she had been found sneaking about the night.

                “Our cook serves up delicious creations, rations permitting, twice daily.  You are welcome to eat with the crew, myself, or alone if you wish.”        

                Tour done, they returned to the deck below and he escorted her to her quarters.  They were simple, with a bed and a small desk, and a hanging lantern to illuminate it all. 

                “Except for the hold, you have full run of the ship.  However, if we encounter a situation, I expect you to follow any orders I give, just as any member of this crew.  Is that understood?” He waited for her agreement.  

                “What qualifies as a situation?” she asked, curious.

                “Most likely a naval patrol, though I’ll do my best to avoid them.  We will find ourselves sailing in some less than pleasant weather, this trip, and you would be safest in your quarters during those times.”

                “Then I will follow your instructions to the best of my abilities.”

                Apparently satisfied, Hook bid her a goodnight and left her to her to get situated.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for Chapter 2 by Cocohook38
> 
> See you next Saturday!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an amazing beta. Another to to @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. And one to @icecubelotr44 for all of her encouragement.

_\------------------------------_ _\------------------------------_

               Hook returned immediately to his cabin and leaned his body against the door, trying to dispel the memory of Miss Swan in his arms.  It had only been for an instant as he had lifted her from the barrel, but the feel of her was burned in his memory.  She had smelled sweet from being hidden among the oranges and the scent still teased his nostrils.

               He hadn’t reacted to a woman this strongly since he’d first met Milah, when he’d still been a Templar.  He’d barely been twenty when he’d met and fallen head-over-heals for his fellow Templar’s wife.  Years later, after he’d turned pirate, he’d run into her again in a tavern. She’d run away with him that day, leaving her son and husband behind.  They’d been happy, for a few years, until he’d succeeded in killing the head of the Templar Order, Malcolm Gold, in revenge for the death of his brother. His son, and Milah’s husband, Robert Gold, had swiftly hunted them down.  

               In the ensuing fight, Gold had used magic to defeat Killian.  He’d chopped off his left hand, the one that had borne his Templar tattoo, and was about to run him through until Milah had intervened.  She may have saved him, but died in the process.  Broken by grief at the loss of another loved one and sick with fever from infection, he’d taken the crew to Neverland with a hastily stolen magic bean.  Though it had only taken him a couple of months to acquire the Dreamshade he’d sought, few left Neverland without Pan’s permission.  It had taken him ten years of working for the bloody devil-child to secure passage out of that nightmare realm.  Many things had changed in the years he’d been gone, but it hadn’t been hard to build himself, under the name of Captain Hook, a reputation as a pirate not to be messed with.

               The loud bang of a cannon ball being dropped on the deck above jolted him out of his memories.  Scrubbing his hand across his face, he resolved to distract himself from concentrating on his disconcerting passenger.  He sat at the table, covered in charts, and continued plotting their safest course to Camelot.

\---

               The next morning  _The Jolly Roger_  left the port city of Alexandria on the morning tide and began its voyage to the Kingdom of Camelot.  Killian manned the helm for the first few hours before relinquishing it to Theo, his trusty helmsman.  When he noticed he hadn’t seen Miss Swan on the deck by midday, he ventured below.

               He had his hand raised to knock on the door of Miss Swan’s cabin when he heard the unmistakable sound of a stomach forcibly emptying itself.  Retreating, he went to the galley to collect a tin of plain biscuits and to make a pot of ginger tea.  Once the tea was steeped to the proper strength, he returned below.  Unable to knock with the tray in hand and on hook, he gently tapped the top of his boot against her door.

               “Miss Swan, I’ve brought you something to settle your stomach,” he called.

               At first, he was unsure if she would answer but a few moments later he heard movement within the cabin.  The door opened and Miss Swan stood before him looking as if she’d spent the entire day getting acquainted with her chamber pot. Blond hair stuck to a pale, sweaty face and she eyed the food he’d brought with suspicion.

               “Countless men have signed aboard ships only to find their stomachs slow to adapt.  A few biscuits and some ginger tea should help calm it until you get your sea-legs,” he explained as he set the tray on the small desk.

\------------------------------------------------

               “Tea and biscuits, really?” Her voice was rough and tired sounding.

               “A simple but effective remedy, I assure you.”

               He poured a cup of tea and placed it in her shaky hands, making sure she had a good grip before letting go.  He watched as she sipped it hesitantly, hoping it would help.  Unsure what to do now, he scratched behind his ear.  

               “Ginger is the best for an upset stomach, no matter the cause.  Don’t listen to Victor.  He’ll try to give you some disgusting tonic that tastes like rotten fish,” he continued, feeling as if he were rambling.  

She laughed, though, softly.  “Thank you, Captain.”  Her voice sounded a little less hoarse already.

               “My pleasure, Miss Swan.”  With that, he turned and left, leaving her alone.

—-

               Emma closed the door to her cabin after the Captain left and her stomach gave a flip that had nothing to do with her seasickness. Captain Hook, scourge of the seas, had brought her tea and biscuits.

               She only sailed a few times a year and just for the few days it took to travel from Misthaven to Arendelle and she’d always suffered from seasickness for the majority of the trip.  The royal physician always insisted that she not eat or drink until the worst of it had passed, insisting that consuming anything would only make it worse.  

               The ginger tea had instantly calmed her rolling stomach and within minutes she was able to nibble on the biscuits without issue. She relaxed back on her bed with another cup of tea and contemplated the Captain’s actions.

               He was just being courteous, she tried to tell herself.  She was, after all, paying him a large sum of money for this job, and it was in his best interest to keep her happy.  However, Captain Hook had already shown that he was a man moved by emotions, and she had a suspicion that he’d brought her this comfort not because it benefitted him, but simply so that she would feel better.

               She wasn’t sure how that made her feel.  As a princess, she was accustomed to people taking care of her even when it wasn’t needed or appreciated.  They did it either because they had been paid to do so, such as the palace servants, or were trying to gain royal favor, which had been Henry’s father’s motivation.  Having someone besides her parents or a close friend taking care of her simply so she could feel better was a new experience.

               After two cups of tea and half the tin of biscuits, Emma found herself drifting off.  Though the ship had been at port the night before, her stomach had been nauseous and it had kept her from getting a restful sleep.  Her sickness now abated, she decided to allow herself the rare pleasure of an afternoon nap.  

               Hours later, feeling rested and only slightly nauseous, Emma decided to risk venturing from her cabin.  She took each step slowly but she managed to get to the galley without issue.  There she met Tristan, the ships cook.  The dinner hour had passed but he had a bowl of warm stew and some bread waiting for her.

               “Captain said you might stop by, once you were feeling better,” he said as she sat down at one the small tables.  Though she hadn’t been hungry when she arrived, the smell of the stew ignited her hunger and suddenly she was ravenous.  The stew was almost as good as Granny’s and the bread was still soft. Hook hadn’t been kidding about the delicious creations the cook served.

               Once fed, Emma continued to the top deck of  _The Jolly Roger_ , which Hook had told her was the weather deck. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the bright sun after the dim light of the lower decks but once they did, she stood, stunned into silence.  The ocean was bluer than she had ever seen it and the waves sparked in the sunlight.  

                The wind smelled of salt, as it did on the coast, but without the stink of humanity underneath.  It was clean and pure and she breathed deep, appreciating the fresh air.  The ship rolled and Emma stumbled, grasping the rail. For a moment her stomach lurched, but settled again.

               “Miss Swan, I’m glad to see you on deck.” Captain Hook joined her at the rail, standing on her right. “Discovering the wonders of the Sea?”

               “Yes.  I’m usually too ill to explore the top deck,” she replied. “Thank you again, for bringing the tea and biscuits.  It did wonders.”

               “You are very welcome.  It would be a shame for you to be stuck below deck the entire way to Camelot.” He grinned at her.

               “That would have been quite disappointing.” She leaned further over the rail, watching how the sea broke against the hull of the ship.

               “Just don’t fall overboard, lass.  The sea is a harsh mistress.” With that, he left her to her wonder.

               Pulling herself back, just a little, she watched from the corner of her eye as he walked across the deck.  He’d forgone the large black coat he’d worn every other time she’d seen him, dressed only in a loose top, vest, and tight trousers, sword swinging at his hip.  

               He was a handsome man, this Captain Hook.  Tall and thin, but obviously well-muscled, based on the ease with which he’d lifted her the day before.  She wasn’t sure if the scruff of a beard was intentional or because he hadn’t bothered to shave for a few days, but it suited him.  But what really drew her were his eyes.  They weren’t the same blue as the sea they currently sailed, but just a little darker.  A little stormier, too, if she was feeling poetic.

—-

               About a week after leaving Alexandria, Hook was pleased to see that Swan was spending more and more time on deck.  He knew from Tristan that she was still drinking some ginger tea each day, but she seemed to have found her sea legs.  When on deck she kept mostly to herself.  He usually spotted her seated on a coil of line, reading, something called Her Handsome Hero.  He’d read a few lines over her shoulder the other morning and realized it was a romantic adventure novel, which was a bit fanciful for his tastes. It didn’t seem to be to her liking either, if the way she was currently dozing off at the bow was any indication.

                “Be careful, Swan, the sun will bake you alive if you fall asleep on deck,” he commented as he drew near.  “How about a duel to wake you up?  It’s been awhile since I’ve crossed blades with an assassin.”  

Assassins were trained to fight with many different types of weapons, but most favored their wrist blades.  As a Templar, he’d been trained in countering the small, deadly blades, but it had been years since he’d needed to test those skills.  

               She shielded her eyes with a hand and gazed up at him, an eyebrow raised, “Really?”

               “Come on, Swan.  You have something better to do?” He glanced at the book in her hand.

               Emma rolled her eyes and after setting the book aside, stood. He shucked his heavy coat as they headed toward the middle of the deck and pulled his sword from its sheath. Starkey offered her his sword, which she accepted and gave an experimental swing.  She was dressed in a simple shirt under a blue leather vest, which would protect her from any accidental injuries.  Though she appeared to be unarmed except for the borrowed sword, he knew she wasn’t.  In addition to her hidden wrist blades, he suspected she carried small knives and other deadly implements hidden on her person.  

               They stood across from each other, waiting for the other to act first.  His curiosity overriding his patience, he swung towards her left side.  She side-stepped to avoid the attack with ease.  He thrust and she blocked with an effortless sweep. Back and forth it went.  He attacked, she blocked.  He realized after the first few rounds that she was feeling him out, trying to figure out if he had a certain style of fighting he favored. He increased the pace of his attacks. He swung high, forcing her to employ a high block. He stepped close, bringing his hook down and across, aiming for her stomach.  Much to his surprise, Swan stepped into the attack.  She forced his sword arm back with a powerful push and then spun under her extended arm.  The blade on her left wrist caught his hook as she turned, pulling him to his left and into her spin.  Of center and not expecting such a move, he soon found himself coughing hard from an elbow to the ribs.  

               He didn’t have time to catch his breath before Swan attacked, her sword going high while her wrist blade aimed for his chest. He smirked, thrilled that she was finally on the offensive.  The duel continued for some 10 or 15 more minutes before a lucky block with his hook allowed him to twist the sword from Swan’s hand.  She barely reacted before taking advantage of a gap he’d left in his guard and stepping close enough to him that he could feel her breath on his chest. The smell of roses teased his nose. His sword was useless with her this close.  He tried to step back, but her right arm twisted around his left, holding him close. She smiled as she brought her left arm up and pressed the point of her blade to his throat.

               Knowing he was beaten, he released the grip on his sword and allowed it to drop to the deck, surrendering.  Cheers went up around them, his crew having gathered to watch the spectacle they had put on.  Swan stepped back and he instantly missed the feel of her pressed against his chest. He picked up his sword and returned it to the sheath at his hip.

               “Thank you, Captain.  That was a nice change of pace.” She smiled.

               He smiled back, and said, sincerely, “Anytime love. Anytime.”

—-

               Back in his cabin, Killian leaned against the frame of the door, hand scrambling to undo the front of his trousers.  He moaned as the pressure released and he could take himself in hand.  A fight always got his blood pumping, but not like this.  He was harder than he had been in a long while and he hoped that no one on his crew, or Swan, had noticed.  

               The lovely Miss Swan.  He closed his eyes and pictured her as she had been at the end of their duel.  Sweat had begun to cause the loose tendrils of her golden hair to stick to her skin. Her eyes had been aglow, pleased with her victory.  A lone drop of sweat slid down her neck and into the valley of her breasts, at which he’d gotten a peek  when they’d been chest to chest at the end of their duel.

               He longed to follow that drop’s path with his tongue, to taste the salt of her skin.  To delve between her breasts and feel their softness against his face.  He wanted to release them from the confines of whatever undergarments she wore and tease her nipples with hand, hook, and tongue.

               Then he would venture lower, tasting every inch of skin he could reach.  Then lower still, to the treasure hidden between her legs.  She would taste sweet, his golden warrior goddess, he was sure. He would devour her essence and bring her release again and again.  Only after she was satisfied would he seek his own completion.  To sheath his cock in her warm, tight quim would be pure bliss. He’d thrust hard, enjoying the way it would cause her breasts to bounce, while his hand rubbed her clit to bring her off one more time.  The way she would squeeze his cock as she came for a final time would be the end of him, he was sure.

               Killian bit back his moan as he came, his seed shooting onto the floor.  He sagged against the wall, barely able to keep himself upright now that he had released his built up tension.  Once he caught his breathe he stripped off his trousers and shirt and cleaned himself with a damp cloth.  He dressed in fresh clothes after his quick wash, but he swore he could still smell the scent of roses.

—-

               Besides Hook and herself, there were 27 other men aboard  _The Jolly Roger_.   Other than Tristan, who thoughtfully continued to make her ginger tea each morning, most of the crew ignored her presence.  At least they did, until after her duel with Hook, because the next morning Emma found herself invited to play cards with Logan and the Wyatt brother’s.  They played one-and-thirty for a bit, which she had experience with before, before they taught her Bone-Ace, a more complicated version of the same game.

               She wasn’t sure if they had hoped she would be an easy mark, well-spoken lady that she was, and thus easy to fleece for a few extra coins but it was her purse that was heavier at the end of the day.  

               The next day Starkey, the quartermaster, offered to show her some pointers on the handling of the cutlass, saying he’d noticed she’s seemed unfamiliar with that sword type during her duel with Hook. Which was true; it was favored only among sailors, so she’d had little need to learn to fight with one, only to defend against it.

                A dam had broken, it seemed, and she spent most of her days practicing new sword techniques, gaming with the crew, and even learning the rudiments of sailing instead of reading or being alone in her cabin, which is what she had expected. She even spent some time with Victor, the ship’s surgeon, ignoring his incessant flirting in hopes of learning some new medical knowledge. 

               Late in the morning, nearly a fortnight after they’d left Alexandria, Emma sparred with Theo, armed only with Starkey’s borrowed cutlass.  The helmsmen was far from an expert swordsman but she struggled to hold her own, so accustomed to relying on her hidden blades and other weapons in a fight.  She misjudged a block and left her right side open to attack, which Theo quickly exploited.  Her ego was saved from another defeat when Hook approached and Theo stopped his attack.

               “Miss Swan, brave enough to join me in the crow’s nest?” He wiggled his eyebrows in challenge.

               Emma looked upward and contemplated the place in questions.  She wasn’t afraid of heights.  Far from it. She did her best thinking perched atop the highest tower of her family’s castle, contemplating the scenery.  But it wasn’t the height of the crow’s nest she found intimidating, it was the climb to get there.

               She’d spent a little time moving about the rigging of  _The Jolly Roger_  under the careful eye of the crew as they tried to turn her into a true sailor.  She knew the ropes were strong and well cared for but they still felt flimsy under her hands.  The ships constant rocking also meant that the rarely felt secure even when she had a good grip.  

               She never turned down a challenge, though, so she returned Starkey’s cutlass and followed Hook to the web of ropes, called the shroud, that would get her to the platform that was the ships crow’s nest. Hook hopped up on the rail, making it look effortless, and offered his hand down to her.  She took it and he pulled her up next to him.  The ship rocked before she could grab the rigging and Hook’s arm wrapped around her waist to keep her from falling into the sea. This brought them cheek to cheek and his scruff tickled her skin.  

               “I’ve got you lass,” Hook whispered in her ear.  The words caused a shiver to go down her spine and she pulled back as soon as she had a grip on the ropes of the shroud.  Hook dropped his arm from around her and started climbing.  He stopped after a few feet and turned his head back toward her, raising an eyebrow.

              Emma took a deep breath and followed, drawing level with Hook.

              “You’re getting the hang of it,” he said with a grin.  

              “Is this really necessary?” Emma asked.

              “Trust me love, you’ll want to see this.”

              They quickly reached the point where the shroud became too narrow for them to climb together and Hook gestured that she should proceed him upwards.  She did, slowly.  When she reached the end of the shroud, she carefully pulled herself onto the yard that ran below the crow’s nest.  Praying the ship didn’t shift, she stood on the stretch of wood and used her arms to heave herself onto crows nest’s platform.  

              The view that greeted her as she stood was stunning.  She faced towards the stern and she could see the ocean stretched out behind  _The Jolly Roger_.  It appeared to go on forever, except for a strip of land to her left and some islands to her right.  

              “Those islands are called the Chain of Fire and they all have volcanos.  The largest of which is a bit active today,” Hook said as he joined her on the platform.  He handed her his spyglass and pointed to the closest island.

              Through the spyglass she was able to see smoke rising from one of the mountains. Fire spit from its top and lava was running down the side.  It was Mother Nature in action and it was magnificent.

              “Does anyone live there?” Emma asked, watching the liquid fire cause the sea to boil when it met the ocean.  

              “Not on that island, no.  A few villages on those with less active volcanoes.”

              She tensed when she felt an arm on her shoulder, but it was only Hook bracing her as  _The Jolly Roger_  crested a powerful wave.

              “Look starboard and the land you see is the Kingdom of Vand.”

              She dropped the spyglass from her eye and turned to look at Hook, who was rubbing his beard with his hand as he studied the coastline in the distance.

              “Usually, I’d take  _The Jolly_  around to the other side of the islands and further out to sea when passing this way.  King Eric has no tolerance for piracy and his navy is the best in the realms.  If we are to encounter any naval resistance, it will be over these next few days while we are off the coast of Vand.”

               Emma sobered and handed Hook back his spyglass. As he took it, the metal casing rubbed against her skin and she hissed in pain.  

               “You should have said something lass,” Hook said as he grasped her hands and turned them palm up.  

               She started to protest that it was only some rope burn from the climb up, but the words stuck in her throat as Hook pulled a cloth from around his neck and tied it around her palm.  She stopped breathing altogether when he leaned close and tightened the knot using his teeth.

               “Victor has a poultice that will have this healed in a day or so,” he said, his breath ghosting across her hand.

               “Good. Yes,” Emma blurted.

              “This will make climbing down a bit awkward, though, so we will need to take a different route.”

              Emma blink at that, trying to imagine another way to get down that was different from the way they came up.  Hook smiled a mischievous smile as he reached out and pulled her closer with his hook.

              “I recommend you hold on tight,” he said as he grasped a hanging rope and had it coiled around his forearm with a quick twist.  

              She was about to ask why but Hook took a step forward, off the platform and she only had time to wrap her arms securely around his waist before they were hurtling toward the deck of  _The Jolly Roger._   The free fall lasted only seconds, but it was exhilarating.  She held back a scream, but just barely.  

              They landed hard and her grip on the Captain was the only reason she didn’t fall onto her ass.  Emma stayed where she was, arms still wrapped around Hook until her heartbeat calmed and she was steady on her feet.

              “You alright there Swan?” Hook asked as he peered down at her.  

              Emma coughed, embarrassed, and pulled away. “Yes, fine, thank you.” 

              Hook reached forward with his hook and pushed some of her escaped hair behind her ear. “That you are, lass.  That you are,” he said softly.

              Emma rolled her eyes and headed to sickbay to see Victor about something for her hands, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach.

                                                        —-

               Three days after he’d shown Swan the erupting volcano from the crow’s nest, Killian was back on the crows nest’s platform, watching the horizon. They hadn’t encountered any large storms on their voyage so far, only a few small squalls, and that had him antsy.  This time of year there usually was a storm threatening the coast every few days. He brought his spyglass to his eye to study a few dark clouds when he spotted what looked like sails instead.  He readjusted his glass to get a better look and cursed when he confirmed that it was, in fact, sails on the horizon.  

              He hoped it was a merchant ship with a stupid captain, ignoring the risks for the sake of a little more gold.  Or King Eric and Queen Ariel themselves, taking a pleasure cruise down their coastline before the storms made it impossible.

               He sighed, knowing he could hope all he wanted but it wouldn’t change the fact that the layout of the sails on the ship tailing them screamed navy.

               “Theo, coax a bit more speed from these sails,” Killian called down.

               “Aye Captain!” His helmsman yelled back.  

               He kept his spyglass on the sails for the better part of an hour.  As  _The Jolly Roger_  picked up speed, the size of the sails dwindled, the ship falling behind.  However, soon the sails reappeared as the ship they belonged to increased their speed as well.  This confirmed his fear that they were, in fact, being followed.

               Killian dropped down to the deck and marched to his cabin, yelling “Starkey!” as he pulled out all the charts he had of this area. The quartermaster appeared with a befuddled expression, unused to being summoned in such a brusque manner.

               “We are being followed by what is likely a Vand naval ship.  I would like to avoid a confrontation.”

               Starkey nodded and together they studied the charts, looking for an alternative route that could throw the navy off their tail. It would have been easy any other season, but all the normal routes took them farther out to sea than he liked to be this time of year, even if the storm season was calmer than normal.

               “Starkey, have Theo take us a few leagues further out to sea.  We can only hope they aren’t keen to sail into dangerous waters, even for a prize such as us.”

               “Aye, Captain.”

               After his quartermaster left to convey his orders, Killian flopped into his chair and glared at the charts spread in front of him. The Vand navy had chosen their territory well.  There were no island chains this close to shore for him to sail into to throw them off their tail, no coral reefs only a lightly leaden ship would dare sail.  

               Killian returned above deck and took up watch at the stern of his ship.  The sails were still there and they were getting closer, the ship gaining on them.

               “Smee, fetch me Miss Swan.”

               Killian might be Captain of  _The Jolly Roger_  and the final authority on any militaristic action, but Swan was currently his patron, so it would be polite to consult with her before making any drastic decisions that would affect the progress of the voyage.

               Swan joined him at the stern within minutes, saying, “Smee tells me we’re being followed.  Vand navy?”

               “Aye, most likely.” Killian passed her his spyglass so she could get a look.

               “You predicted this could happen.  Do you have a plan?” Swan asked as she brought the spyglass up to her eye.

               “Not one I like.  We can’t evade them.  We are as far out to sea as I dare take  _The Jolly Roger_ , and so far, our pursuer shows no sign of falling back.”

               “Can we outrun them?”

               “We’re going as fast as we can, but the winds are not in our favor.” He ran his hand through his hair, agitated.  “Swan, if they choose to engage, we will have no choice but to defend.  However, it may be in our best interests to attack first and use the element of surprise to our advantage.”

               Swan glanced sharply at him, obviously startled by his suggestion.  He rolled his shoulders, trying to release the tension that had built up in his muscles before he continued.

               “ _The Jolly Roger_  is not crewed for a sea battle right now, especially one against a fully armed naval ship.  We do not have the numbers to hold them off if they get close enough to board.”

               “So the key is not letting them get close enough, at least not when they are still capable of fighting back,” Swan said, obviously following his thought process.

               Killian nodded and Swan heaved a sigh, clearly unhappy.

               “Captain, I do not want to condone an unprovoked attack on a naval ship.  But if you believe that is our best option, I will not object.” Swan sounded resigned as she spoke, “Just… show mercy, if you are able.  Please.  These men are only doing their job.”

               Killian inclined his head, acknowledging her request. “I’ll do my best. But in the meantime, I recommend you get below, love.  Victor will be thankful for another hand to help with any injuries.”

                                                        —-

               Emma went below deck, her heart feeling heavy as Hook ordered his crew to stations above.  In the 12 years she had been a member of the Brotherhood of Assassins, she’d often had to account for and try to minimize collateral damage on her missions. She wasn’t always successful and sometimes, people who didn’t deserve to die paid the ultimate price for her actions. But never before had she needed to make a decision of this magnitude.  A naval ship could be carry dozens of men and some of those men were going to die because she had prioritized her own mission over their lives.

               But she had to save her son and she was willing to pay any price to do so.  If that price included the lives of innocent sailors, then so be it.  She would accept the consequences once Henry was safe.

               Emma shook herself out of her melancholy thoughts as she approached sickbay.  All Assassins learned basic medical procedures such as cleaning and closing wounds, so she would be of some help in the sickbay once the fight started. Victor was there, making sure each drawer was securely shut and wouldn’t spill precious medicine or supplies onto the deck.  

               “Have you ever been in battle, Miss Swan?” the doctor asked, without preamble.

               “I’ve done my fair share of fighting.  But not at sea, not on a ship.” Emma answered truthfully.

               “Then this will be quite an experience for you,” Victor said as he checked the sharpness of a knife with his thumb. “Most injuries during a sea battle are not from the cannon balls themselves, but from the shards of wood they create when they hit a ship.  I’ve seen men run through by pieces of rail as long as my arm.”

               Emma swallowed and took a calming breathe. She was no stranger to blood and gruesome injuries but the image Victor’s words painted in her head made her feel a little ill.  Victor handed her a simple white apron and she tied it on.  A cannon fired above and the loud boom caused Emma to jump.  The battle had begun.  

 

\------------------------------------  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next Saturday!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. Even when I send her random pages to edit just a week before posting. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way. Also, sorry for the late posting! My sister had her baby on Friday and I officially have a niece! So I’ve been a bit distracted by all the photos and videos my mom is sending me. 
> 
> This chapter has explicit sex. If you are not old or mature enough to read such things, leave now. 
> 
> Please see bottom note for clarification on a couple of nautical terms and actions.

_\------------------------------_    _\------------------------------_

                Emma waited, anxious.  She wanted to know what was going on above deck.  She tried channeling her nervous energy into rolling bandages in preparation for any injuries, but it didn’t help. 

                Victor noticed, and with roll of his eyes, he sent her to the upper deck with a couple of supplies and instructions to help any seriously injured crewmen down to sickbay.  The large hatch on the main deck was open and through it a few of the crew were handing supplies up to the main deck.  Emma found a spot where she could see and hear all that was going on above. 

                “Load more chain-shot! Take out their masts!” Emma heard Hook yelling above.

                The cannons fired again; Emma’s ears rang with the boom.  They were so much louder than she had imagined. 

                “Incoming fire!” someone shouted, and she watched as the men above ducked, taking shelter where they could.   Wood cracked as the cannonballs made contact, and Emma marveled at the size of the wooden pieces that flew overhead.  

                “Logan, aim the twenty-four pounder at the mainmast!”

                _The Jolly Roger_ and the naval vessel continued to exchange fire; soon Emma was wrapping bandages around a bleeding leg, splinting a finger that was likely broken. She watched in awe as both men went back above deck despite their injuries.

                A man stumbled down the stairs.  His foot was almost unrecognizable, completely mangled with bits of bone poking out.  Emma helped him down to Victor, who took one look at the appendage and declared it was beyond saving.  The foot would have to be removed.

                The man, whose name she faintly remembered as being Ollie, lay down on a low table in the center of sickbay.  Victor handed Ollie a bottle of rum, from which he took a long swallow, and a bit of leather bearing bite marks, which Ollie fit between his teeth.  Victor secured a tourniquet around Ollie’s lower leg and with a final nod, began the amputation.

                Emma held Ollie down as he thrashed from the pain, his screams filling the room.  Victor worked fast, cutting skin away from muscle and peeling it back.  Emma forced herself to watch as the surgeon grabbed a saw-like instrument and began to cut through the bone.  A minute, maybe two, and the foot fell to the floor. 

                She flinched as Victor poured rum over the open wound and applied a hot knife against it to stem the bleeding

                “If this doesn’t fester, you’ll be up and about once Peter fashions you a crutch.  Once it’s fully healed, he can fit you with a peg.” Victor announced as he began to stitch the flesh he’d pulled back earlier around the wound.

                No longer needed, Emma returned to the upper deck.  It was surprisingly quiet.

                “Have we won?” she asked Billy. The seaman was leaning against the hull, packing a pipe with tobacco.

                “Nearly.  Captain just needs to decide how to end it.  Should be safe enough, if you want to go above.”

                Swan thanked him and climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck.  She cautiously approached the starboard rail.  _The Jolly Roger_ was close enough to the other ship that she could see its name, _The Trident,_ painted on the stern.  One of the masts had been broken in the battle and was hanging off the port side of the ship, while the sails on the foremast were in tatters.  Emma smiled.  _The Trident_ would not be sailing anywhere anytime soon. 

                “Swan, how is Ollie?” Captain Hook inquired as he joined her at the rail.

                “Victor appeared hopeful,” Emma told him, pleasantly surprised at the pirate captain’s concern for his injured crewman.

                “Glad to hear it.  Now, I recommend you return below deck.  This battle isn’t over.”

                Emma looked at Hook, shocked. “The ship is obviously disabled.  We can leave and they won’t be able to follow.”

                “That may be true, but they need to be taught a lesson about messing with pirates.” Hook grinned, but there was no joy in it.

                Emma blinked, startled.  The few week’s she had been on _The Jolly Roger_ had been so conflict-free that she had forgotten that she sailed aboard a pirate vessel… and that Hook was a pirate captain of considerable renown.  He may have a reputation as a gentleman, but she doubted that his sense of honor extended to naval vessels who could be a threat to the safety of his crew.  

                “Tell me, Swan, what would you do?  Say you were the Captain of _The Jolly Roger_ and that ship was impeding a mission for your Brotherhood?”

\---

                 Killian had asked the question of Swan on a whim, but he found himself genuinely curious, as he watched her give his query serious thought.  Her face was sullen as she studied their foe, bobbing helplessly in the ocean.  She took a deep breath before she brought her gaze up to meet his - and her eyes were sad.

                “I would want to show mercy,” Swan said, her voice unsteady with remorse. 

                She hesitated, narrowing her eyes to try and discern his expression, then slowly repeated, “I would want to show mercy.  Those men are only doing their job and we are the trespassers.  Nevertheless, that ship is a threat and every Assassin knows that anything that is a threat to a mission may need to be dealt with in a permanent manner.” She paused and exhaled through her nose. “So I would destroy the ship.  Give no quarter, I believe, is the nautical term?”

                Killian couldn’t keep himself from laughing, not expecting to hear any correct terminology from an obviously land loving lass. 

                “Aye, Swan.  To give no quarter is to direct the crew to show no mercy and to warn one’s enemies that none will be given.”

                “And is that the order you plan to give?” she asked, though she seemed hesitant to get an answer.

                “I’m not sure yet, to be honest.  First, we’ll board the ship and pick through their stores.  No point sending food and fresh water down to Davy Jones’ Locker.  Men down there have no need of it.”

                Swan nodded.  “I would like to remain on deck,” she suggested.  “I understand the risk I am taking by doing so.  However, this wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for my mission and I should at least have the courage to watch the consequences of my actions.”

                Killian marveled.  He could name very few people he had met in his life who were so willing to face, head on, the destruction their choices may have caused.  Even his beloved Milah had been hesitant to deal with the consequences of abandoning her husband and son.

                He nodded. “Please remain on the quarterdeck with Theo, where you’ll be out of the direct line of fire.  I don’t anticipate any resistance, but they may try to fight once they realize how few crew we have.”

                Swan smiled sadly at him. For a moment, Killian could think of nothing but how beautiful she was.  Unhappy though it was, her smile transformed her entire face, highlighting the gentle curve of her cheekbones, the graceful arch of her brows, and for the first time he spotted the small cleft in her chin.  Already a stunning woman, Swan with a smile was almost too beautiful for words.

                Killian coughed and mentally gave himself a shake.  Now was not the time to be cataloguing the assets of his patron.  He had a battle to finish.

                Together they climbed the few steps to the quarterdeck, where Killian instructed Theo to bring _The Jolly Roger_ alongside _The Trident_.  As they bore down on the other ship, he watched the top of the remaining mast, where the flag of Vand was still flying.  If they wanted to surrender, they would lower the flag, and his men should be able to board without meeting any resistance. If they did not surrender, he could continue to harry the ship with chain-shot and small arms, hoping to kill enough of the crew aboard that his own could take the ship by force.  The other option was to load the heavy guns and destroy the ship’s hull completely, sending all men and goods aboard to the bottom of the sea. 

                Killian found himself holding his breath as the distance between the ships decreased, his eyes squarely on the flag.  Finally, he spotted an officer approach the base of the mast: and slowly, the flag of Vand was lowered. 

                _The Trident_ had surrendered.

\---

                Emma stood on the quarterdeck, muscles tense as she watched the crew of _The Jolly Roger_ use grappling hooks to position the two ships closer, bow to stern.  A gangplank was positioned across the remaining gap, and Hook crossed to the deck of _The Trident_ with his usual swagger.

                Emma couldn’t hear the instructions he gave, but the crewmen who had joined him on the deck of the Navy ship started moving about the other crew.  A pile of swords and pistols began to form on the deck as the navy men were disarmed.

                Over the course of the next two hours, Emma observed as barrels of fresh water, fruits, and a variety of other food items were brought aboard _The Jolly Roger_.  Emma was surprised when a cask of Agrabahn wine was brought up from the hold of _The Trident_. 

                As the crew celebrated the unexpected find, Emma found her attention draw to the crew of _The Trident._   All the navy men were together near the bow of the ship, with two pirates acting as guards.  Most appeared calm, almost uncaring as the pirates pillaged their ship.  A man she identified as the Captain sat with his head in his hands and she wondered if he was praying for guidance, or resigning himself to his coming fate.  Probably both.

                The ship’s Lieutenant stood near the front of the group, his back to her, and though he appeared to be casually leaning against the rail, Emma could see the tension in his hunched shoulders.  One hand was rhythmically tapping against his leg, obviously a tic to expel nervous energy.  As she watched, the Lieutenant’s hand began to move, slowly, towards his back.  Emma swore when she saw a glint of steel as he pulled a dagger from a well-hidden sheath.

                She reached toward the pouch on her belt where the kept her blowgun and darts, only to find that she wasn’t wearing it.  She’d become too comfortable, going about the ship without all of her normal gear.  She only had her hidden blades and a small knife tucked in her boot. 

                The Lieutenant hadn’t moved from his position against the rail, but Emma knew he was only waiting for the perfect moment to strike.  If he attacked, she knew that the other forty well trained navy men aboard would follow his lead, and that they could easily overwhelm the pirates. The deck of _The Trident_ would become a blood bath. 

                Emma stepped up onto the rail, grasping tight to the rigging to keep herself steady.  Only a few feet of empty air separated the two ships.  Emma had made jumps much farther than that and under much more difficult circumstances, but the way the ships bobbed in the sea made her stomach drop at the idea of jumping from one to another.

                Taking a deep breath and ignoring Theo’s shout (“Swan, what in Poseidon’s name are you doing?”) Emma launched herself across the gap.  At that moment, the sea shifted so that _The Trident’s_ bow dropped lower than _The Jolly Roger’s_ stern, causing Emma to miss the rail and land amongst the navy men.  She pulled the knife from her boot as she stood and immediately pressed it against the Lieutenant’s throat.  

                “Give me your knife,” she told him.

                He blinked at her, clearly surprised at her sudden appearance, but made no move to comply with her order.

                “I said, give me your knife,” she instructed again, pressing her blade harder against his skin.  A red line of blood appeared underneath. 

                The Lieutenant hesitated, but then, with a deep sigh, moved his hand from behind his back and presented the dagger to her, hilt first.  Emma took the dagger with her free hand and stepped back.  She turned and walked toward the center of the deck, trying to ignore the fact that every man on the ship was watching her.  She dropped the dagger she had liberated from the officer into the pile of weapons.  Hook raised his eyebrow at her.

                “Your men missed one.”

\---

                His initial irritation at having watched Swan appear on the deck of the _Trident_ fading, Killian bit back a smile as he watched Swan cross the gangplank back to _The Jolly Roger_. .  He had admired her nerve as she casually disarmed the naval officer, and realized that she had spotted the man’s dagger long before jumping aboard. 

                Turning his attention back to the looting of _The Trident_ , Killian realized the captive ship had likely left port only a few days before, based on the amount of fresh fruit and meat it still had aboard.  He and his crew would be eating well for the next week.  Once he had made sure that everything of use or of value was transferred to _The Jolly Roger’s_ hold, Killian turned to the captive crew. 

                “Gentlemen, I must commend you.  It has been quite a while since we have had such a fine adversary.” Killian tapped his hook against the palm of his other hand in mimic of a clap.

                “In reward for your gallantry, I am leaving you with enough rations to last a week.  That should be plenty of time for you to make your repairs and return to port.” With a slight turn of his head, Killian signaled for his crew to return to _The Jolly Roger._  

                A mutter rose amongst the assembled crew.  Whatever they had been expecting to happen to them after their ship had been captured, being let go was not on that list.  Once all of his crew were safely off _The Trident_ , Killian saluted the stunned Captain with his hook and returned to his ship.

                “Lads, let us be on our way,” he ordered.  His crew drew back the plank and cut the remaining lines that were keeping the ships together.  Killian took the helm and carefully maneuvered _The Jolly Roger_ away from the damaged ship.  Though all his attention should have been on steering his ship, Killian couldn’t help but notice how Swan was lingering on deck, an inscrutable look on her face.      

\---

                Pacing the short length of her cabin, Emma tried to understand Captain Hook’s actions.  She wasn’t having any luck. 

                Everything she knew about pirates suggested they were a selfish, violent group of people who cared only for gold and glory.  Misthaven didn’t have a large navy or many port towns, so they rarely had issues with piracy on their coast.  Arendelle had both, though, and Elsa was always telling her stories of her kingdom’s constant battle keeping them in check.

                Hook was a mystery, one that Emma found herself wanting to solve. 

                Hook certainly cared for gold, with the way he’d smiled at the bag of doubloons when she’d handed it over.  She supposed he cared about glory, but she after watching the way he’d handled the situation with the King Eric’s navy, she couldn’t imagine him being unnecessarily violent.  Why had he shown mercy when he could have destroyed _The Trident_?  That seemed like it would have been his best course of action.  It would further his reputation as a pirate not to be crossed among the kingdoms.  So why hadn’t he?

                Restless, Emma couldn’t stand being confined in her cabin any longer and headed up to the weather deck.  The sun had set and the weather had cooled, but the moon provided enough light for her to see by.  Theo was at the helm; he gave her a nod, but didn’t seem bothered by her presence as she paced the deck.

                The cool air and sight of the stars in the clear sky helped calm her mind.  She even found the gentle rocking of the ship soothing, a far cry from her first few days aboard.  She went to the bow and watched the sea as the ship broke through the waves, allowing the rhythm to relax her further. 

                Calm, and getting a bit chilled, Emma turned to head back to her cabin only to find that Theo was no longer at the helm, his place taken by Hook while she’d been allowing the sea to wash away her thoughts.

                He looked magnificent, silhouetted against the dark sky by the dim light of a lantern. Commanding.  Though his stance was relaxed, she could sense that all his attention was on the sea.  She approached slowly, not wanting to disturb him.

                “Care to join me, Swan?”

                Unsure how to say no to the offer, or if she really wanted to, she climbed the few steps to the quarterdeck and stood with him at the helm. 

                “Would you like to try your hand at sailing, lass?” He stepped back from the wheel and reach out his hand to her.  Hesitantly, she took it, and allowed him to position her hands on the spokes. 

                “We’ve a good wind, so all you need to do is keep her steady,” he said softly in her ear.

                For a few minutes, he kept his hand on hers, helping her keep the ship on course.  When he let go, he stayed close, hand and hook hovering over hers as she took the lead.

                “There you go, love, you’ve got it.”

                She shivered, just a little, and it had nothing to do with the chill of the night. 

                Keeping the wheel steady took a surprising amount of effort and after a bit Emma began to feel the fatigue in her arms.  Just before she could think of what to say, Hook slipped a loop of rope over one of the spokes of the helm.  Lesson complete, she turned.  He was so close she see the hint of red in his beard by the light of the lantern.

                “We’ll make a sailor of you yet, Swan,” he said softly.  

                “Why did you spare _The Trident_?” she asked, before she could convince herself not to.

                “Does that surprise you?”  he practically whispered, his eyes holding hers.

                “I was under the impression that meetings between pirates and navy rarely ended peacefully.”

                “I may be a pirate, Swan, but I do not like killing if I don’t have too,” he answered, parroting her own words back at her. 

                That did it.  Almost unconsciously, her hands buried her hands in the lapels of Hook’s coat and pulled his lips to hers.  The kiss was unlike anything she’d experienced before.  She expected him to taste of rum, but there was only a hint of the liquor’s spice.  It wasn’t soft and sweet, or rough and demanding, but a perfect mix of both.  Her hand went to the back of his heads, pulling him even closer, while his hand curled into her hair and his hook rested lightly against her hip.

                She pulled back, needing to catch her breath. 

                “That was…” Hook began.

                But he was interrupted by a cry of “Storm off the port bow!” from the crow’s nest above.  They both turned just in time to see lightning streak across the horizon.

                “Excuse me, lass: duty calls,” Hook said as he released her and rang the bell at the helm, signaling the sleeping crew below that they were needed on deck.  He then stalked to the bow of the ship, pulling his spyglass from his pocket as he walked, and she followed, curious.

                “Is it a bad one?” Swan asked once he’d dropped the spyglass from his eye.

                “Not yet, but that’s likely to change within a few hours,” he answered, “and it’s heading directly towards us.” 

                A deep voice sounded behind them, startling Emma. “That storm will likely turn north.  There is an island about five leagues to the south-west with a protected harbor on the windward side where we can take shelter and be protected from the worst of the storm,” said Starkey. Emma marveled—the man moved as silently as an Assassin.  “We just need to get there before the storm gets too strong,” he added. Behind him was the crew, awaiting instructions.

                Hook nodded, apparently agreeing with his helmsmen’s suggestion. 

                “Smee, get some men on the pumps.  Tristan, make sure the galley fire is out,” Hook ordered his crew. “We’re going to outrun this storm.”

\---

                Emma returned below deck for a few minutes to help Victor secure sickbay and retrieve her cloak.  She fully intended to remain on deck for this storm as long as she was able.  She had spent the last storm alone in her cabin, throwing up, and she wasn’t keen on a repeat experience.  

                Hook spotted her the instant she returned above and called her up to the quarterdeck.

                “The storm will be on us within an hour.  Though we will only be skirting the edge of it as we head for a safe harbor, we’re stillin for a wild ride, Swan.  You’re welcome to remain on deck if you wish, but secure yourself with a lifeline.” He grabbed a coil of rope and wrapped it around her waist, securing it with a complicated knot.  He pulled softly, testing it. Satisfied, he grinned at her.

                “Hang on tight.  It would be a shame if we don’t get the chance to finish our conversation from earlier.”

                Emma laughed, somehow not shocked that he was flirting with her while a storm bore down on them.  As if on cue, a streak of lightning illuminated the sky.  Hook returned to the helm and she grasped onto a secure line of rigging. 

                Soon, the wind picked up and the rain started.  Even with her cloak, she was soaked to the skin within minutes.  Hook had _The Jolly Roger_ oriented so that they hit the waves head on and went up and over without much issue.  Her stomach dropped as the waves got larger and it seemed like the ship was nosediving into the sea on its way down. 

                She couldn’t help watching Hook at the helm.  He looked spectacular, with his long coat flapping behind him, yelling orders she could barely hear.  More lightning flashed, and she could see the grin on his face.  The wind was trying to toss the ship about, but he kept the ship on course with an effortless turn of the helm.  He truly was a master of the sea.

                She had no idea how much time had passed when land appeared off the starboard bow.  Soon, they were close enough that it sheltered them from the wind and the rain no longer stung her face.  Hook ordered the anchor dropped when they reached a small cove.  This was where they would weather the rest of the storm, protected.

                Emma sagged against the rail, physically exhausted, but exhilarated.  She stretched out her hands, working out the stiffness caused by the grasp she had on the rigging. 

                “You all right, lass?” Hook approached, a manic grin still on his face.

                “That was….” She was at a loss on how to describe the feelings surging through her at that moment.

                Hook laughed, pulling on her lifeline to bring her closer, deftly untying the knot that held it around her waist. 

                “I can help you get out of those wet clothes too, if you’d like,” he said as he brought his hook up and moved the wet hair off her face. 

                She laughed, incredulous, which made his grin even larger. 

                “If you are interested, you may wait for me in my cabin.  I’ll be down as soon as the ship is secure.”

\---

                Emma descended the staircase from the quarterdeck to Hook’s cabin on unsteady feet as the ship bounced below her.  She lit one of the lanterns, keeping it low because of the storm outside, but it gave off just enough light for her to see by.  The cabin looked the same as it had when she had first visited after Hook had caught her sneaking about his ship.  A small bed along one wall, a table strewn with maps, and a scattering of books along the shelf. 

                She browsed the titles, finding The Marine History of Vand, Excalibur and the Lady of the Lake, Greek Gods and Where to Find Them.  Perhaps Hook would let her borrow one.  Her Handsome Hero may be Belle’s favorite, but it was a bit whimsical for Emma’s taste. 

                Also on the shelf was a collection of miscellaneous items.  Colorful shells, a globe of blue glass, a sketch of a beautiful woman, and a few bits of jewelry.

                One necklace in particular caught her eye.  She untangled it from the others and lifted it.  As she brought it into the light, her stomach twisted.

                No.

                No.

                It couldn’t be.

                At the end of the fine silver chain hanged a symmetrical red cross.  To most people, a simple religious symbol.  However, to an Assassin, this was the mark of the enemy.  The crest of the Templar Order.

_\-----------------------------_ _\----------------------------_

                Hearing the trap door above being lifted, Emma immediately grabbed a dagger that had been resting on the table and positioned herself behind the staircase. Just as Hook’s foot descended the last step, she reached up, yanked on his hair and leveled the sharp edge of the blade at his throat.

                “Templar,” was all she said as she brought the necklace she’d found up to his eye level.  He tensed under the knife.

                “I’m not a Templar,” he said and she pushed harder with the knife, drawing blood.  He swore.

                “All right, fine. I _was_ a Templar, long ago.  But the Order betrayed me, me and my brother, and he died because of it.  So I left,” he confessed. “Take this blade away from my throat and I’ll tell you the rest.” He raised his hand and hook in supplication.

                She contemplated her options.  She could slit his throat here and now, but doing so would sign her own death warrant, since she didn’t imagine his crew would take lightly to the murder of their captain.  She also didn’t want to kill him.  Against her better judgment, she liked the brash pirate.  She liked him quite a bit.

                Deciding to take a leap of faith, she pulled the dagger away from Hook’s throat.  She would listen to his story and judge its truth for herself.  She pushed him forward and into one of the chairs at the table.  He rolled his eyes as she tied his arms to the armrests but didn’t struggle.  With him secure, she sat opposite him in the other chair, toying with the knife in her hand.  

                “The Templar Order doesn’t allow people to leave.  Those who try are killed.” 

                “They tried to kill me, many times,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Especially after I gutted  Malcolm Gold and left him hanging  by his entrails out his window.”

                Emma blinked, taken off guard by his candor.  Then she frowned, recalling her history lessons.  Malcolm Gold, the Templar Master who had ruled the Order before Regina, had been found dead hanging from his chamber’s window with his intestines wrapped around his deck.   That had been almost 15 years ago though.  Either Captain Hook had been a teenager when he’d killed one of the most fearsome Templar’s in the kingdoms or he had aged very, very well.

                “I expect he deserved it,” she replied calmly.

                Hook laughed, “That he did.  My brother and I were sent on a mission to a different realm to retrieve a plant.  Dreamshade, they called it, and we had been told it would help combat the plague devastating the kingdoms.” 

                His paused, his face sobering, “We were told by a resident of the realm that it was a very deadly poison, but Liam didn’t believe it.  He was convinced that the Order wouldn’t have lied to us about the mission.  So he scratched himself with a thorn of the plant. He died in my arms.”

                Emma blinked at the name Liam, but filed the information away for later, intent on hearing Hook’s story.

                “When I returned home, my crew and I went rogue and declared war on the order.  As pirates we harried their ships, and I worked my way up the chain of command, taking out anyone who had had a hand in betrayed my brother.”

                Emma studied him.  Most Templars wouldn’t dream of turning against the Order, even if a mission gone wrong killed a family member.  This told her that Hook hadn’t been the most loyal Templar to begin with.  Maybe she could trust him after all.

                “Why did you join the order, if you weren’t completely committed to its mission?” Emma asked.

                “I didn’t join willingly.  I was six, maybe seven years old when my father sold Liam and meself to a Captain with loyalties to the Order.”

                “Your own father sold you?” Emma’s voice was rough at her shock that a parent could do that to his own children.

                “The Order often takes in orphans or children from work houses. Raises them to be loyal little soldiers.  It worked on Liam.”  Hook’s voice was tense with emotion.

                “But not you,” she stated.

                Hook looked her directly in the eyes. “No, not me,” he agreed.

                Emma nodded and leaned forward, using the purloined dagger to cut through the rough bonds she had used to bind Hook to the chair.

                “Thank you, lass, for giving me a chance to explain.  I swear to you, I am no danger to you or your mission,” he said. 

                “I’m not so sure about that,” she whispered to herself as she stood and left the cabin.

\---          

                Back in her cabin, Emma weighed her options.  As a member of the Brotherhood, she should kill Captain Hook.  Once a Templar, always a Templar, and the kingdoms could do with less Templars running about.

                She couldn’t, though, not after learning his story.   She’d watched his eyes as he had spoken and she’d seen the sincerity in them.  Every word Captain Hook had spoken was true. Even his last, when he’d promised he was no danger to her or her mission. 

                He was still a danger though. 

                He was the most dangerous person she had encountered in years. 

                Not because he was a seasoned sea Captain and pirate, or his formidable skills with a sword.  He was dangerous because of the way he made her stomach turn in a way that had nothing to do with the rocking of _The Jolly Roger_.

                She tried hard not to think of how the night would have gone differently if she hadn’t found the necklace in Hook’s cabin.  It would have been a night to remember, she was sure of it.   He would have helped her out of her trousers, which had begun to stick to her skin after they had begun to dry. Her vest probably would have landed on the floor instead of neatly hanged to dry and she had the distinct feeling that her tunic wouldn’t have remained in one piece.

                She finally would have had a chance to explore the hard planes of his chest.  She caught glimpses of it daily, thanks to his ridiculous shirts.  One memorable afternoon, he’d stripped down to his trousers to help the crew subdue a shark they’d speared and brought aboard to butcher.  She’d seen pale scars across his back and a scattering of tattoos, and she wanted to trace each and everyone with lips and tongue.

                Those weren’t the only things she longed to explore.  She’d felt him, hard and long against her thigh at the end of their duel.  She suspected she’d find quite a sword hidden beneath his breaches.  She may be a Princess, but she was good at handling swords. 

                Emma growled; her fantasy had reignited the fire between her legs and she would get no sleep until she took care of it. 

                Or…

                Or… she could go up one deck and have Captain Hook take care of her.  He was the cause of her problem, after all.  She doubted he’d turn her down.  It was, after all, exactly what he had been offering on deck earlier

                Emma sat up and had her feet over the edge of her bed before stopping herself.  Was she really considering propositioning the former Templar she had tied to a chair not an hour earlier?

                Yes.  Yes she was.

                Dressed only in the light top and clean trousers she had changed into, she left her cabin and climbed the stairway to the upper deck.  She didn’t encounter any crew on her way and she quickly found herself outside the door to Hook’s cabin.

                Her hand was poised to knock when it opened and Hook was in front of her, framed by the low light of the lantern she had lit earlier.  He blinked at her and opened his mouth, probably to ask her what she needed.  He cut himself off when she pushed him back into his cabin and closed the door with a kick of her foot.

                He’d removed his coat and vest, so she grabbed the collar of his obscene shirt and sealed her lips on his.  He must have been caught off guard, but he responded with enthusiasm.  His lips battled hers, fighting to control the kiss.  Their teeth knocked against one others’ as it deepened, their tongues entwining. 

                Her head knocked against wood as he pressed her against the door.  She pushed back with her hips, grinding them against his.  She could feel him as he hardened, which only spurred her on.  He tore his lips off hers and groaned.  She didn’t waste a moment before going for his exposed throat and licked upwards to his ear and nipped it with her teeth.

                “Swan, I am thrilled to follow where you are leading, but are you sure?” His words came out rough.

                Sure? 

                She was sure that this was a bad idea: but she was also sure she didn’t care.

                Emma sucked on the pulse point of Hook’s neck. 

                “Yes.” 

                Hook let out a groan.  He moved his arm behind her leg to bring it around his waist.  This placed the hard outline of his cock directly against her core.  Emma ground her hips against it and let out a long moan at the pleasure it induced.

                Hook moved his lips down her neck to the tops of her breasts and his tongue explored the little bit of cleavage that was available.  At the same time, his loan hand made its way underneath the hem of her tunic.  His fingers skimmed along her sides, which caused her muscles to jump.  He grasped one of her breasts and rubbed the nipple with his thumb.  He treated the other breasts to the same treatment.

                Emma grew impatient at the gentle teasing and moved to remover her top.  Hook helped and as soon as her torso was bare to him, he buried his head between her breasts.  While he laved attention on them, Emma moved her hand downward and started to undo the ties that held Hook’s trousers closed.

                Once she had them undone, she pulled back her hips to give herself enough room to slip her hand down the tight leather and grasped the hard length she had been pleasuring herself on.  She pulled it free and gave it a pull, which caused Hook to groan against her chest.

                Hook’s hand, which had been rubbing the breast his mouth hadn’t been sucking on, joined hers between them.  He made quick work of the fastenings on her own trousers and slipped his hand inside.  His fingers moved through her wet folds until they found her entrance.  Hook pressed once finger inside her hot core, then a second.  Emma’s head dropped to Hook’s shoulder as he pumped his fingers within her and she moaned again. 

                They continued to pleasure each other for a moment before Hook drew back from her chest, which necessitated Emma moving hers from where it had rested.  Hook glanced down to where their hands were pleasuring the other.  He brought his eyes up to meet hers and then gave her a cocky grin before he glanced down again.  Emma raised a brow at him. 

                This time, he licked his lips before looking between them and Emma understood what he was silently asking.  She nodded her permission and removed her hand from around his cock.

                Hook dropped to his knees. 

                Once they had removed her trousers, Hook positioned one of Emma’s legs on his shoulder.  He wasted no time before he pressed his lips against her core.  His fingers continued to pump in and out of her as he teased her clit with his tongue.  When he curved his fingers and pushed against a particularly sensitive spot, the combined sensations sent Emma over the edge.  She bit her lip to keep from screaming as her orgasm washed over her, but could not hold back the load moan.  Hook continued to tease her until she sagged against the wall of his cabin.

                Emma heard Hook chuckle lightly as he removed her leg from his shoulder.  When they were face to face again, she grabbed his hair and pulled his lips to his own.  She didn’t care that she tasted herself on his lips, she only wanted to kiss the smug look off his face.

                “That was only the beginning, lass,” he muttered against her lips as he once again grabbed one of her legs and wrapped it around his waist.  He brought their hips into alignment and Emma felt the tip of his cock against her core.

                Emma braced herself against the wall as she spread her legs wider.  Hook pressed forward with his and his cock slid into her with ease.  He was large, and Emma was glad that her recent orgasm had left her wet and ready.  When he was fully seated within her, Emma felt wonderfully full.  Hook doesn’t move for nearly a minute, which allows Emma to adjust to his size.  They he started to rock against her and Emma moved her hips to match his.

                They quickly work up a sweat and Emma has a hard time keeping her balance.  When her foot slipped and they both nearly end up a heap on the floor, Hook heaved her upward and wrapped her free leg around his waist with her other.  Her back is pressed against the wall and she is supported entirely by Hook.  The wood is rough against Emma’s back as she is forced against it but the slight hint of pain only serves to increase Emma’s pleasure.

                However, the buildup of sweat soon made that position difficult to maintain as Emma felt herself start to slide down the wall.  Her movement is halted before she finds herself uncomfortably bent by Hook’s hand on her bottom and she is heaved upward.

                “Hold on,” Hook whispered as he wrapped his arms around her.  Emma complied and Hook took a small step backwards.  Then another.  He continued until his knees hit the edge of his bed and he fell backwards onto the mattress.  Emma barely kept her head from knocking into his with an arm on either side of his head.

                Emma frees her legs from underneath Hook and repositions herself until she is able to kneel above him.  Hook gave her no time to adjust to the new position up top of him before he began to thrust into her again.  With his feet braced against the side of the bed, he has good leverage and Emma’s breasts bounce with each thrust.  Her hips press backwards to meet each of his thrusts. 

                He growls in response and Emma cannot help but moan.  She can feel another orgasm approach.  She toys with her nipple while her other hand moves to where she and Hook are joined and rubs frantically at her clit.  Given that she was still sensitive from her last orgasm, it does not take her long to reach another.  Her inner walls clench as it washes over her.  Hook’s eyes rollback and his thrusting falters.  He tugs her down so they are chest to chest and his grunts are muffled against her shoulder as he pumps his release into her.

\---

                Swan shifts to the side, trying to move herself off him but isn’t much room on his small bed. Her head still rests on his shoulder and one leg is remains tangled with his as they catch their breath.  It’s an intimate position, especially when his hand buries itself in her hair, unconsciously stroking through the strands.

                Possibly too intimate, he realizes, when he feels Swan shifting uncomfortably at his side.  He understands.  Basking in the post-coital glow isn’t something everyone enjoys.  So he cocks his head to one side and frowns, pretending to be worried about the thunk he’s just heard from the deck above.

                “Excuse me love,” he says as he rises, “I sounds like something may have come loose on deck.”

                He pulls on his trousers, not bothering to tie the front, and forgoing a top and coat.

                “Make yourself comfortable, Swan.  I’ll be back in a bit,” he says with a wink, before climbing through the hatch that leads to the quarterdeck. 

                The cliffs block most of the wind from the storm, so it is almost pleasant on deck, despite the rain.  He just stand there, face turned up towards the sky and lets it begin to wash away the scent of sex that clings to his skin. 

                A cough to his right draws his attention and he finds Starkey giving him an odd look. 

                “Problems with the lady, Captain?” his quartermaster asks.

                Killian sighed; it was just his luck that it was Starkey who was on watch.  He is the only man aboard the ship that has been with him since his days as a Templar and thus knows Killian better than most.

                “Tell me, Starkey, why are the women who hold my interest are wholly inappropriate?” he asks, feeling unusually candid.            

                The older gentleman just laughs, a deep, resonant sound.  “You are drawn to women who are as untamable as the sea, sir.”

                Killian shakes his head and chuckles at the poetic statement.  He should have expected such from Starkey, who was more scholar than sailor at times. 

                “Thank you, Starkey, for your insight.”

                He gives Swan a few minutes more to make her retreat, then heads back to his cabin.  Though he knows she would be gone, the sight of his empty bed causes a catch in his throat.  He swallows past it, because he understands.  He’d done the same thing when he’d first begun his affair with Milah.  He’d been afraid of the connection they had and how strong it had been. Now, years later, he’d been feeling an echo of that same fear since Swan had come aboard _The Jolly Roger_.  So he understands, even if understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.  Nor does it hide the scent of roses that permeates his sheets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art work by Cocohook38, and this is one of my favorites! I love the detail of Emma's wrist sheath and the drawing of Milah in the background. 
> 
> While surrender is usually associated with the raising of a white flag, at sea, simply lowering a ship’s colors, their flag, was all that was needed to show surrender. Additionally, to give no quarter is, as Hook says, an order to show no mercy. That usually means to kill the crew of the opposing ship and set it on fire.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. Even when I send her random pages thinking I had something that I forgot to send her, only to find out she had edited it in July and I was a dope who didn’t copy things over. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way.

_\------------------------------------------------------------_

             The next morning Emma was hesitant to leave her cabin, uncharacteristically nervous in the aftermath of her encounter with Hook.  She’d never been shy after her sexual adventures, only circumspect because of her royal status.  She’d always been able to put on a smile and pretend she didn’t know what the cock of the Captain of the Glassboro Ambassador’s honor guard tasted like, even as they danced together at some royal event or another.

             But today… today she was too scared.

              Last night, in the wake of their sexual exploits, she had wanted to stay. She’d wanted to remain curled up on that small bed, her head on his chest and his hand in her hair, and bask in the afterglow of the best sex she’d ever had.  With one of the most interesting men she’d ever met.  Because while he may be a former Templar, he was also a man with whom she had an undeniable connection.  

              She never stayed.

              Staying was too intimate.  And Emma didn’t do intimate.

              Not since Baelfire.  

              Baelfire… Just the thought of Henry’s father made Emma inwardly cringe.

              She’d only been seventeen years old when the son of Robert Gold had come to her family’s castle, requesting protection from the Assassins in residence in exchange for information on the Templar Order.  Emma had been ordered to stay away from him until his trustworthiness was assessed. However, she’d found herself intrigued by the mysterious stranger, so she’d disobeyed and sought him out.

              Baelfire had charmed her with ease.  He made her laugh, and she could spend hours just relaxing in his presence, but most importantly, he had treated her like a regular woman instead of a Princess. She’d fallen for him even though she knew she shouldn’t have.  On the night of her eighteenth birthday, she’d dragged him away from the festivities and spent the night giving into her feelings.

              The next morning, Emma had awoken alone.  She’d thought that he had left to avoid being caught in the Princesses bed, but a casual search of the castle revealed that he wasn’t anywhere on the premises.  When he wasn’t located before nightfall, a search had been mounted.  The Assassins had feared that Templar’s had somehow snuck in and abducted the defector, but August, her faithful friend since childhood, had come forward with a heart wrenching truth.  

              During the night, while the guards were distracted by the ongoing celebrations, Baelfire had broken into the castle’s vaults.  He’d taken no gold or jewels, but something infinitely more valuable, rare a magic bean.

              August had followed Baelfire to an isolated stretch of forest and confronted him about his theft.  There, her lover of one night had reportedly railed against the politics of the world, cursing both the Assassin and Templar organizations.  He’d gone into a rage about how the demands of the Templar Order had caused his father to seek magical power, and how once he found it, the dark magic had destroyed the man until very little of Robert Gold remained.

              Baelfire had said he could longer live in a world where magic existed and that was where he had instructed the pilfered bean to take him.  A Land Without Magic.

              When Emma had asked August about why he hadn’t stopped Baelfire from going into the bean’s portal, her friend had reluctantly revealed that Baelfire had said some very uncomplimentary things about herself and her magic.  The insults had been too much and August had actually pushed Baelfire into the portal in his anger.  August had always been overly protective of her.

              It was almost two months later that she’d discovered that she was with child. Baelfire had been her only lover and the child was most definitely his. That hadn’t stopped August from proposing marriage, though he was only a wood carver’s son and wholly unsuited to be the husband of a princess.  Emma had considered it, for a brief moment.  The marriage would have been challenged by the aristocracy of Misthaven, of course, but her parent’s would have backed her if she convinced them that she truly loved August.

              Except she didn’t, at least not in the romantic sense.

              The puppet-turned-real boy was a wonderful man, but she was not in love with him.  

              Emma had confessed her dalliance with Baelfire to her parent’s and the resulting consequence of the affair.  David and Snow had been disappointed, having trusted her to be more responsible, but had offered their support for whatever she chose to do.

              She could have ended the pregnancy before it had become widely known.  There were numerous herbs and potions that would have rid her of the unexpected burden.  Ultimately, Emma had decided against it, despite the scandal she knew having a child out of wedlock would cause.  

              She never regretted her decision.  Henry was the light of her life.

               He was the reason she was sailing aboard a pirate ship on her way to abduct his paternal grandfather in hopes that Robert Gold’s blood would help lift the curse her maternal step-grandmother had placed on him.  

               While Emma hadn’t expected this voyage to go smoothly, especially after the constant warnings about the dangerous storms they would be facing, she hadn’t expected the type of situation she found herself in with the ship’s spirited captain.

              Emma’s stomach grumbled and drew her from her ruminations.   Hesitant as she was to leave her solitude, it was time for breakfast and Tristan would be unsympathetic if she skipped the morning meal only to show up hours later in search of food.  

               Giving into pragmatism, Emma finally ventured forth to the galley and collected her portion of the oats Tristan had made and her now usual cup of ginger tea.  Because she had dallied, the oats were more warm than hot, but she forced herself to eat them regardless.  It was her own fault, after all.

               Just as Emma was finishing her breakfast, she felt  _The Jolly Roger_  lurch violently around her. She, and her dishes, were unceremoniously tossed to the deck.  Scrambling to her feet, Emma immediately went to the staircase that lead to the weather deck. She only climbed the first few steps though, because as curious as she was about what was going on, she didn’t want to get in the way.

               It wasn’t raining as badly as it had been the night before, but Emma was quickly soaked through as she tried to figure out what was going on.  Every member of the crew was rushing about, some climbing the shrouds, or pulling on lines as Starkey shouted orders from the helm.  Hook she spotted to her right, pulling on a line with Theo to secure a sail that had come loose in the wind.

               A crack of wood drew Emma’s attention to her left and she watched, horrified, as the large cannon opposite Hook and Theo broke from its restraints and started rolling across the length of the deck.  

               Emma reacted without thought and used her magic to push Hook out of the cannon’s path. The pirate captain was forced forward, somersaulting ass over teakettle due to the unrefined nature of her spell casting.  She would have enjoyed the sight of his flabbergasted face had her chance of appreciation not been interrupted by the harsh crash of the loose cannon breaking through the railing and plummeting to the sea below.  

               Heart beating loudly in her chest, Emma pulled her gaze away from the damage and found Hook staring straight at her, a quizzical look on his face.  Their eyes met and he quirked a brow at her, obviously asking if she was responsible for his sudden tumble.  She rolled her eyes at him, a non-answer, and decided to return below deck before she gave away anymore of her secrets.

—-      

               Alone in his cabin, Killian had found sleep almost impossible after his tryst with Swan.  Normally he was able to sleep even under the worst seafaring conditions but with his sheets smelling of sweat, sex, and roses, sleep had refused to come. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind conjured up the image of Swan riding atop him, her delectable breasts bouncing with every pump of his hips.

                Morpheus had finally granted him a respite from his thoughts, though he still found himself waking with the dawn a few hours later like any good sailor.  Since Tristan had only been starting to work on breakfast for the crew when Killian had stopped by the galley, he’d snagged an apple to partially satisfy his hunger until a more substantial meal was available.  

                   On deck, Killian had found the morning dark and grey, with the rain falling harder than he would have predicted.  Concerned, he had climbed the shrouds and rigging to stand on the topgallant yard of the mainmast and pointed his spyglass to the north.  

               The storm had not gone north as Starkey had forecast.  Instead, it had continued straight and this put  _The Jolly Roger_  right in its path.  The cove they had taken shelter in would not be sufficient to protect them. In fact, the rotation of the hurricane could flood the cove with water and dash them upon the cliffs.

               “Starkey,” Killian had yelled as he dropped back to the deck, “get the men on deck.  We’re about to take a beating.”

               Half a day later, Killian returned to his cabin wanting nothing more than a hot bath and a large bottle of rum to warm him up. He was soaked through despite the protection of his great coat, thanks to the relentless winds of the storm. Stripping out of his waterlogged clothing, he made sure to hang his coat, vest, and shirt to dry properly, before starting on the challenge of getting out of his trousers.  

               Killian had only begun to undo the lacing of the front panel when he was interrupted by a knock at his cabin door.  

               “Come in,” he called, distracted.  The leather of his ties had become swollen with rain, making the knot difficult to undo.

               “Captain, Tristan thought you would…” Killian’s head snapped out at the sound of Swan’s voice startled.  He hadn’t expected her to come to his cabin so soon after last night.

               Swan held a tray in her hands on which there was the ship’s metal teapot, a pile of biscuits, and what looked like a few cold cuts of pork.   He could smell lemons and a hint of honey and his stomach grumbled in response. He’d only had an apple for breakfast, after all, and he was in dire need of nourishment after his exertions on deck.

               “Sorry for disturbing you,” Swan said while she set the tray on his table.  “Tristan asked me to bring this to you, saying you would probably be hungry.”

               “Thank you,” Killian said.    

               “You should thank Tristan,” Swan replied.  She turned to leave, but he stopped her by looping his hook around her elbow.  She froze, and with a deep breath, turned back to face him, but her face was guarded.

 _\--------------------------------_ _\-------------------------------_

               “Thank you for saving me earlier today.  I would have gone overboard with that cannon had you not pushed me out of its path.  I owe you my life,” he said, trying to infuse his voice with his appreciation.

              “I didn’t do anything,” Swan said in reply, her own voice emotionless.

              “I am familiar enough with magic to know its touch, Lady Swan.” Killian smiled, trying to put his reluctant savior at ease.

              It didn’t work.  With a glare, Swan removed her arm from the curve of his hook and quickly left his cabin, the door slamming shut behind her.

              “Bugger.”

——

 _The Jolly Roger_  weathered the rest of the storm without any more major mishaps or any loss of life.  Still, the ship was in a right state after the battle with  _The Trident_  and the storm.  Together, Killian and Starkey decided it would be necessary to put in at port for repairs.  Ripped sails were easy enough to repair, but the damage to the rails, siding, and hull would need a shipwright’s expert touch.

               Unsurprisingly, Swan was less than pleased with their decision.

               “Speed is of the essence, Captain.  It is vital that I reach Camelot and secure Rumpelstiltskin before the Brotherhood knows where he is,” Swan argued, her hand slamming down on the map spread out across table of his cabin in emphasis.

               “I understand that, Swan, but  _The Jolly Roger_  needs attention.  In this condition, she’d only be able to sail half her normal speed, at best.  It will take less time to put into port and get her set right than it would be to continue on as is,” Killian explained, tracing a line down the coastline on the map with his finger.  “We’re heading to a port called Silverbrooke.  There is a shipwright there, Hawkins, that can hopefully get  _The Jolly Roger_  repaired in less than a week.”

               “A week?” Swan’s voice went shrill in her anger and she glared at him, her green eyes sparking with anger.  Suddenly, he felt heat on his hand and looked down to see that her eyes weren’t the only things sparking.  White sparks were emitting from the tops of Swan’s fingers and one had started a small fire on his map.  He put it out with a quick slap of his hand.  When he looked up, he saw that Swan had stepped back from the table. Her arms were tight to her sides, hands clenched into fists, and breathing heavily through her nose.

               She was afraid, he realized.  Whether she was afraid of the consequence of a delay or because of her magical outburst, he wasn’t sure.  Nevertheless, he felt the urge to comfort her.  He kept his distance though, despite how much he wanted to wrap her in his arms.

               Killian watched as Swan clenched and unclenched her hands, the sparks becoming less frequent with every slow breath she took.

               “My apologies, Captain,” Swan said, lifting her eyes to meet his.  One of her hands went up to grasp the necklace she always wore.  

               “A small scorch mark, nothing to worry about,” Killian said, keeping his voice low.  

               “Regardless, I apologize.”  

              Swan looked like she wanted to run from his cabin, so in order to lighten the tension in the room Killian poured them both a glass of wine.  It was not the Agrabahn wine they had looted from  _The Trident_ , he intended to sell that, but a red he’d picked up in Alexandria before setting out.

              “Will you tell me, Swan, why this mission is so important to you?” Killian asked as he sat down.

              Swan sat down across from him, picking up the glass of wine he had poured and swirled it in the glass.  

              Finally, she answered, “My son.  I’m doing all of this for my son.”  She closed her eyes as she sipped at the wine and when they opened again he could see that they were shining with tears.  “He was cursed by Queen Regina in revenge for a mistake I made. Rumpelstiltskin may be the only way to lift it before it kills him.”

              “My condolences lass.  But why go after your son and not you?” He asked, taken aback by her tale.  Regina had always been a ruthless woman, but to curse a child for the crimes of the mother was not something he thought even her capable of.

              Swan hesitated before answering his questions and he figured she was trying to decide how much to reveal. “I am… protected,” she finally said.

              “Because of your magic?” He asked, genuinely curious about what could protect a person from Regina’s magic.  The Queen was a powerful sorcerer.

              “In a way,” Swan answered, shrugging.

              Killian sipped at his wine as he considered the information he had gained.   He still had questions, but one specifically had been bothering him since he’d discovered Swan had magic.

              “Why not just magic yourself to Camelot?  That would have saved you this month of travel, even if you had to take a slow route back.”  He didn’t know if a sorcerer’s magic could transport two people, especially if one was an unwilling passenger.

              One of Swan’s hands was once again grasping her necklace and he wondered at it’s significance, wishing he had gotten a better look at it the other night.

              “The curse on my son, Henry, is slowly draining him of his life force. To keep him alive, I cast a spell so that my magic would keep him alive long after the curse would have killed him.  However, it means that I must be very careful with how much magic I use.” Swan lifted the necklace to eyelevel and he could see that it was a golden rose.

              “Each petal represents how much magic I have left to power the spell keeping Henry alive.  When I left home, there were nine petals. Now, there are only seven, and I have been very careful with how much magic I have been using.  Teleportation takes a lot of magic,” Swan explained.

               Killian nodded, completely amazed.  

               “Swan, I’ll get you to Camelot as quick as I and  _The Jolly Roger_ are able,” Killian promised. Giving in to his urge to comfort Swan, he reached across the table and grasped her hand that had been resting on the table next to her wine glass.  To his pleasure and surprise, she didn’t pull away.

               “Thank you.  Moreover, let me apologize again for losing my temper earlier.  It’s just…he’s my son.”  Swan smiled at him, but it was a sad one.

                For a moment, they just stared at each other.  He didn’t know what was going through her mind, but his was busy cataloging how incredible Swan was.  He was beginning to like her on an emotional level more than was probably wise.

              Swan pulled away first, freeing her hand from his, and standing.  

              “I hope this Silverbrooke has an inn with a bathing chamber.  I could do with a wash,” she said as she left his cabin.

              Killian smiled.  Despite her quip, to him, she only ever smelled of roses.

—–

              It took two days for the battered  _Jolly Roger_ to reach the small town of Silverbrooke.  The harbor was empty, since more of the local boats had gone to dry dock for the season.  

               As soon as the ship was secure, Killian strode down the gangplank to the dock .  “Captain Jones!” the harbormaster called. “You’re the last person I expected to see come to town this time of year.”

               “Wilson, I admit, I didn’t expect to be here.  But we’ve had a difficult couple of days and  _The Jolly_  here is in need of Hawkins’ expert attention.”

               Wilson nodded, eyeing the rough repairs the crew had been able to manage while at sea.  With a whistle, he called one of the young lads that hung around the docks and sent him off to fetch Hawkins.

               Killian nodded his thanks.  He and Wilson spoke about local news until Hawkins arrived. The shipwright had some choice words to say about the state of his ship.

“Plague seize you, Jones, what have you done to  _The Jewel?_ ” demanded Hawkins, putting his hands on his hips and glaring at the battered ship.

               Killian rolled his eyes.  It had been over a decade since his ship had been  _The Jewel of the Realm_ , but Hawkins had been the shipwright who had built her, and he was a nostalgic man.

               “How long do you expect it’ll take for you to get her fit again?” Killian asked, hoping it wouldn’t take as long as he had estimated to Swan.

               Climbing the gangplank to the weather deck, Hawkins frowned at the missing rail.  He spent the next hour inspecting every inch of the ship, tutting to himself the entire time.  

               “Jones, you’re lucky my boys are home visiting. With the three of us, it should only take four to five days for us to get this ship repaired.  It’ll cost you though.” Wilson rubbed his fingers together meaningfully.

               “You’ll be handsomely compensated,” Killian assured him.  

               “Then my boys and I will get to work.”

—

               Emma decided not to waste any money by staying at the town’s local inn, The Raven’s Nest, and opted to remain aboard  _The Jolly Roger_  despite the ongoing repairs. Though she was not a guest of the inn, she did manage to purchase a quick bath in a small copper tub, which was enough to wash off the three weeks of grime she’d accumulated while at sea. Additionally, the innkeeper’s wife had told her that there was a local hot spring not far from town, which Emma became determined to visit before she left Silverbrooke.  

               Emma spent her time in Silverbrooke running errands into town, collecting supplies for the repairs and helping Victor procure some medicinal herbs unique to the region.  Hawkins and his sons, Rowan and Orson, had been surprised to find her aboard  _The Jolly Roger_  the day they had started the repairs.  Whether it was because they hadn’t expected a woman aboard a pirate ship, or specifically a woman aboard  _The Jolly Roger,_  she wasn’t sure. Either way, they quickly overcame their hesitance and accepted and treated her as part of the crew.  But while on a shopping trip two days after  _The Jolly Roger_  had arrived in Silverbrooke, Emma discovered that she was being tailed.  

               Her shadow was good; Emma gave her (for it was a her) that.  She’d gotten sloppy only once, when Emma had stepped into the apothecary to buy some dried comfrey.  Emma would have waited outside if she was doing the tailing, since the shop had only one way in or out, but her shadow had followed her inside.  

               Emma’s heart had skipped a beat when she spotted the familiar blades on her shadow’s wrists and realized that it was an Assassin who was following her.  Not only that, it was one she knew.  Jenny had joined the Brotherhood a few years after Emma, a ladies’ maid recruited because she worked in Vand’s royal palace.  Jenny spent little time in the field, her main assignment to pass information between the Vand based members of the Brotherhood and other chapters. If Jenny was here, in a small Vand town, it likely meant the Brotherhood had her scouting port cities.  Emma had a sinking feeling that she herself was the reason, and that the Brotherhood knew of her betrayal.  

               Leaving the apothecary, Emma gave no sign that she was aware of her tail.  Emma continued her errands, keeping a close eye on Jenny.  As the day waned, Emma tired of watching over her shoulder and decided it was time to confront her shadow.  Emma led Jenny to The Limping Lion, where she quickly headed through the main room, up the stairs, and out onto a small balcony.  Emma watched from her perch on the balcony’s rail as Jenny, not knowing where her target had gone, exited the tavern from the back door and into the alley.  

               Emma stood and with a step, allowed herself to drop into the alley below.  She landed right behind Jenny and pressed her right arm blade to the back of the woman’s neck.

               “You need to spend more time outside of the palace, Jenny.  Your  skills are getting rusty,” Emma said, then she stepped back and allowed Jenny to turn and face her.

               “Your Highness,” Jenny said glumly as she curtsied, which looked odd since she was wearing trousers, “I’ll keep that in mind.” As she straightened, Jenny rubbed at the back of her neck where Emma had pricked her lightly with the tip of the hidden blade.

               Jenny stared at her and Emma began to feel a bit self-conscious about the salt-stained and ragged nature of the tunic and trousers she’d opted to wear that day.  

              “Princess, have you lost your mind?” Emma’s fellow Assassin questioned.

              “Would you do any different, if it was your son?” Emma rebutted.  

               Jenny sighed in exasperation. “Regardless of your reasons, you’ve going directly against the orders of the Brotherhood. They’ve labeled you a traitor.”

               Though Emma had known that was the likely outcome when she’d left Misthaven, it still hurt to hear it being said by one of her fellow Assassins.

               “You don’t have instructions to eliminate me though. That is what is done to traitors, after all.” Emma had given Jenny plenty of opportunities to kill her throughout the day, even some that could have been made to look like accidents.

                “I have authorization to, if I cannot convince you to give up this mission and return to Misthaven,” Jenny said, pressing her lips together.

               “I can’t Jenny.  You must understand that.  He’s my son!” Emma almost choked on the last word, her emotions almost overwhelming her as she was faced with the first true consequence of her actions.

               “Emma, please!  I don’t want to kill you, I really don’t,” Jenny pleaded. “But I will, if I must.”

               “I know.”

               Following those two simple words, Emma stepped forward and slid her right arm blade between Jenny’s ribs, pressing hard to ensure she pierced the heart.  Jenny blinked, completely shocked to find herself on the wrong side of Emma’s blade.

               “I’m sorry,” Emma whispered as she removed her blade.  She held Jenny close for the few moments it took her to die, ignoring the blood that was staining both their clothes.  When she was gone, Emma caught her body and carefully laid her on the ground.  Tears fell from her eyes.  

               “I’m so, so sorry.”

—-

               Killian started getting nervous when Swan did not return to  _The Jolly Roger_  by early evening. By nightfall, he was pacing the length of his ship, eyes scanning the waterfront area with each pass. Too worried not to act, Hook yelled to Starkey that he was going in search of their missing patron, and stalked off his ship and into town.

               Killian started at the marketplace: a quick visit with the local apothecary revealed that Swan had been in earlier in the day, but that he hadn’t seen her since.  By asking questions of the stall attendants as they packed up their wares, he tracked Swan’s movements, which eventually led him to The Limping Lion.  The tavern was full, but there was no sign of Swan amongst the patrons.  

                In a town this small, the barkeep likely knew most of the locals, so Killian approached him and asked, “Mate, have you seen an unfamiliar blond woman in the past hour?”

               “May have,” the barkeep answered.  

               Killian raised a brow. “If you had, do you know where she went?”

               “Might,” was the man’s only reply.

               Rolling his eyes, Killian dug into his great coat’s pockets, pulled out two silver coins, and placed them on the wooden bar. Though the coins had been minted in Briar, he hoped the barkeep wasn’t going to turn down good silver over something as silly as provenance.

               The ploy worked. “She’s taken a room, number four.”

               Killian nodded his thanks and headed up the stairs, looking for room four, which he found at the end of the hall.  Killian raised his hook to knock, but paused when his mind finally caught up with his actions.

               There were a few reasons a woman alone would pay for a tavern room, none of which he wanted to walk into or disturb.  Swan was perfectly within her rights as a woman to rent a room and spend some time with a lover, as so many sailors did when on shore leave.  Even if Killian’s stomach clenched at the thought of her with some random man, or woman, he wasn’t about to deny her any pleasure she sought.

               Killian turned away from the door, intent on waiting at the bar for Swan to finish her sport, when he heard a troubling sound from inside the room.  He turned back and carefully pressed his ear against the wood of the door.  

               Crying.

               That was what he was hearing.  

               Swan was crying.

               Suddenly filled with rage at the thought of anyone harming Swan, Killian stepped back and kicked open the door.  He rushed into the room, sword drawn, and spun about, looking for someone to run through.

               Instead, he found only Swan, starting at him in shock. She was wearing only her trousers and was holding her tunic was in her hands, which was soaked in blood.

               Killian sheathed his sword, stepped across the room, and took Swan in hand and hook to check for wounds.  

               “Hook, what are you doing?” Swan shrieked at him, holding her tunic up to her chest.

               “Where are you injured?  I’ll send a lad to fetch Victor from the ship,” he told her as he moved the tunic away from her chest and ran his hand down her ribcage, breathing a sigh of relief when he found no damage.  The next moment, Killian found himself flat on his ass, staring up at a red-faced Swan.

               “I am fine.  I was not the one injured,” Swan told him, her knuckles white from the tight grasp she had on her tunic. “I’m fine.”

               Perplexed, Killian carefully lifted himself up off the floor.  “What happened?” he asked, gesturing to the blood.

               “I…” Swan started, but stopped.  She took a calming breath before starting again. “I had a run in with a local Assassin.  It didn’t end well.”

               “You knew this was a possibility,” Killian said softly.

               “I did.  I did know.  But I wasn’t… I wasn’t prepared.” Swan closed her eyes and Killian’s heart clenched when he noticed the tears clinging to her lids.

               “Swan, it will be all right,” he said, his mind searching for a way to comfort Swan in a way that she would accept.

               “No!  No, it will not be all right!” Swan shouted, clenching her tunic to her chest.  “Jenny was a good woman, a loyal sister-in-arms, and now she’s dead!  I killed her and now her body is lying behind a pile of rubbish as I wash her blood from my clothes and she deserves so much better than that!”

               Killian watched as Swan’s legs gave way and she collapsed to the floor, her face buried in her hands.   Though he knew he had a good chance of being slapped for taking liberties, Killian kneeled on the floor next to Swan and pulled her into his arms.

               She sobbed against his chest and Killian softly moved his hand up and down her back, trying to sooth her in the same manner Milah had done for him when his past had become too much for him to bear. He said nothing, knowing no words would help.  So instead, he hummed the melody of one of his favorite sea shanties.  

               After a time, Swan’s sobs quieted and she sagged against him.  Killian got his legs underneath him, placed his arm into the crook of Swan’s knees and with a heave, lifted her from the floor.  It took only a few steps for him to reach the room’s bed and he carefully laid her down.  Swan stirred when he removed her boots and tucked her beneath the bed’s duvet, but did not wake from her grief-induced slumber.

               “Rest well, love,” Killian whispered as he bent down and placed a soft kiss on Swan’s forehead.  He knew he shouldn’t have, since Swan wouldn’t have allowed it if she had been awake, but he couldn’t resist.  Despite only knowing Swan a few weeks, Killian realized that he was slowly falling for this amazing woman.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. She is always challenging me to “Show, not tell” actions and feelings. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. I love the bits they made for this chapter, so check them out! And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way. This chapter also wouldn’t exist without all the fantastic people in the AC fandom, and Ubisoft who has been so generous with their designs, who have figured out how a hidden blade could actually work.

_\------------------------------------------------------------_

              Emma woke with a head full of cotton, eyes that felt like they’d had sand rubbed in them, and a powerful thirst.  This was how she usually felt after she’d overindulged in alcohol, but she didn’t remember any drinking.  All she remembered was…

              All she remembered was stabbing Jenny and hiding her body in the alley behind some rubbish.  Tying her tunic in a way that hid most of the blood and requesting a room from the barkeep.  Filling the washbasin with stale water from the jug in the room and trying to wash Jenny’s blood from the fabric.

              Emma closed her eyes and fought back the tears forming in her eyes.  

              Jenny.

              She’d killed Jenny.

              Forcing herself to get up, Emma placed her feet on the floor and stood, feeling a little unsteady.  As she reached for her tunic, which was hanging over the end rail of the bed, more memories assaulted her.

              Hook, bursting through the door.

              Hook, looking up at her with a shocked look on his face after she’d pushed him back from his inspection of her body for injuries.  

              Hook, cradling her close and crooning in her ear as she cried out her sorrow.  

              Hook… and the soft touch of his lips against her skin after he’d put her to bed.  

              When Emma pulled her tunic over her head, she realized that it wasn’t the one she had been wearing before.  Not only that, it wasn’t even one of her shirts.  It fit, though, and wasn’t stained with blood, so she wore it anyways.  Hook, she surmised, must have bought it for her.

              Just as she was thinking of the implications of Hook buying her clothing, there was a light knock on the door to the room.

              “Swan, are you awake?” Hook called.  

              “I am, and yes, you may enter,” she told him.

              Emma noticed the sorry state of the door’s lock, damaged by Hook’s dramatic entrance the night before, and reminded herself to pay the barkeep for the damages.

              “My men and I took care of the Assassin’s body during the night.  We buried her in the graveyard that the locals use for visitors who die while here,” Hook said as he entered.

              “Thank you,” Emma said, truly touched by Hook’s consideration for the remains of her compatriot.  

              “Ah, you’re welcome,” he said, scratching behind his ear with his hook.

              Emma smiled, finding his nervous tic endearing. He watched her, obviously hesitant, as she approached him.  Slowly, Emma reached up and wove her fingers into his hair and pulled his face down to hers.

              The kiss began as little more than a press of lips, but Emma felt a shock move through her system as soon as the two of them touched.  Hook’s arms came around her, holding her close, and she relaxed into his embrace. She pressed her tongue against the seam of his lips and they opened for her.  Their tongues tangled, but the kiss remained relaxed, never gaining the passion that their first had on the deck of  _The Jolly Roger_.  Even so, this kiss was so much more.  

—

              Back on  _The Jolly Roger_ , Emma spent the remainder of the day trying to distract herself from her grief by helping Tristan in the galley.  She probably was more of a nuisance truly, but Tristan was patient with her.  Together, they produced a rather good goat stew.  Hook hadn’t been kidding about Tristan ability to make delicious food when he had access to the ingredients to do so.  It was also a nice change to eat meat that hadn’t been salted first.  She would miss it when they returned to sea.

              The limited social contact did its job.  The next morning, Emma was feeling more composed and decided to seek out Hook.  She found him helping Hawkins fix the rail the loose cannon had destroyed during the storm.  Thankfully, this was the last major repair that needed to be done while in Silverbrooke and they would hopefully be on their way to Camelot soon.  

              Emma waiting off to the side and allowed herself to appreciate the sight of a shirtless Hook , muscles straining pleasantly with the weight of the wood he was holding in place.  The kiss the other night still played on her mind and she wondered at the constant pull she felt toward the arrogant pirate.  

              She had hoped that the one night they had spent together physically would have dampened her desire for him, but nearly a week later, it was only growing. Additionally, she was becoming emotionally attracted to him as well.  

              Emma felt herself blushing as she remembered how gently her onetime lover had handled her in her distraught state.  Many men she knew would immediately run from an emotional and crying woman.  Not Hook, though.  Instead, he’d held her close and soothed her until she’d passed out from exhaustion.

              When the rail was finally in place and Hook free from manual labor, Emma approached him, trying to keep her eyes of the trails of sweat making their way down his chest.  It was wrong, she decided, to be ogling Hook given what she was about to ask.

              “Will you show me where you buried Jenny?” Emma requested.

              Hook nodded, his eyes soft, “Of course.  Just give me a few minutes to get cleaned up.”

              Emma returned to her cabin and dressed in her full Assassin garb.  Her blue waistcoat was a little loose after a few weeks of eating a sailor’s diet.  No matter how skilled the cook, he could only make the normally bland food taste better, not be more nutritious.  

              The sight of her in her official outfit must have surprised Hook, because he furrowed his brows at her when she emerged from below deck.  

              “It is only proper, when paying respects to a fellow member of the Brotherhood,” Emma told Hook before he could ask.

              Hook had cleaned himself up a little as well.  His greatcoat looked as if it had been recently cleaned and he’d donned a black velvety looking vest over his shirt.  

              They walked in silence through the town and along the path that lead into the woods to the west.  The informal cemetery, no more than a disorganized scattering of graves, was located in a small glade.  Hook led her to the freshest burial.        

              Only a rough cross made of branches marked it, but there was a flat piece of wood inscribed with the name ‘Jenny’ propped against the base.  Hook’s work, she realized; she vaguely remembered screaming Jenny’s name at him when she’d broken down.

              Emma keeled down at the base of the grave, vaguely aware of Hook returning to the edge of the clearing to give her some space.              

              “Jenny, there are no words in any language that would allow me to express how sorry I am,” Emma began, throat closing up as she lost the hold she’d had on her grief.  “No excuse I could give to justify my taking of your life.  We were sisters, comrades-in-arms, and I betrayed you.”

              Emma didn’t bother fighting back her tears; she allowed them to flow freely down her face.  “I do not ask for your forgiveness.  I do not deserve it.”

              Reaching into her pocket, Emma removed a pure white feather.  Normally, she would use it to collect the blood of her official assassinations, to prove she had done the job assigned to her. Instead, she made a shallow cut across her palm and used it collect her own blood.  She laid the now red feather at the base of Jenny’s grave.  

              “I can only hope that you show me mercy when we meet again in the world after this one, even though I was unable to grant you any.”

—

              Hook immediately took note of the cut on her palm, but remained silent as he handed her his black handkerchief to stem the bleeding.  This time, she tied the knot herself, but the sudden memory of him tying it with his mouth sent a shiver down her spine.

              “There is a hot spring not far from here, just along the river.  I would like to spend some time there,” Emma informed Hook, heading toward the shore so she could follow it further into the woods like the innkeeper’s wife had told her to do.

              “Is that wise, Swan?” Hook asked as he followed her. “Far be it from me to deny you the chance to refresh yourself, but what if your associate wasn’t working alone?  There could be another Assassin in the area.”

              Emma stopped and turned, releasing the hidden blades on her forearms.  “I am not a defenseless maiden, Hook.”

              “I’m not saying you are, Swan,” Hook raised his hand and hook in front of him, “but there is no need to put yourself in danger’s path if it is unnecessary.”

              Emma narrowed her eyes, unhappy with Hook’s assessment but recognizing the truth in his words.        Still, she was unwilling to give up the chance to soak away her stress.

              “Come with me, then.  You can stand guard, if you believe me to be in any danger.”

              Hook blinked at her, clearly taken aback by her invitation.  

              Not waiting for his answer, Emma continued on her way upstream; and after a minute, Hook joined her.  They walked in silence, but there was a tension underneath it that Emma hadn’t felt before.  She’d expected her invitation to involve at least one flirtatious comment from the pirate, but instead he’d was stoic as they searched for the hot spring.  

              After a mile or so, they came upon an area where the river widened.  Off to the side, there was a part blocked off by a ring of stones, creating a small pond where the warm waters of the spring were separated from the cold of the river.

              Hook did a quick walk around the shoreline then placed himself on a large rock facing downstream, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.  Emma chuckled to herself as she began to remove her layers of clothing.  She folded her attire carefully and placed it and her gear far enough away from the spring to remain dry, but close enough she could reach them should she need to arm herself quickly.

              Emma hissed lightly as she stepped into the hot spring.  Taking her time to adjust to the heat of the water, Emma slowly crept further into the pond. The water only came to her stomach at its deepest point, so she kneeled down in order to fully submerge her upper half. She moaned when the hot water came up and over her breasts.

              From the corner of her eye, Emma saw Hook shift on his stone seat and she realized that she must have been louder than she had thought or intended to be.  Regardless, she couldn’t help vocalizing her pleasure as she shifted herself to the edge of the pond and allowed warmth of the rocks to sooth the tension in the muscles of her shoulders.

              “If you are doing that a purpose, lass, I beg that you stop.  Or I may need to find private place of my own,” Hook called to her, his legs shifting again.

              “Why go off alone when you could just as easily join me?”

              Emma’s words hung in the air between them.

              After a minute, Hook replied, “That would be unwise, love, but I thank you for the invitation.”

              Taken slightly aback, Emma rose from the pond and carefully walked across the shore until she was behind Hook.  His breath hitched when she laid a hand on his shoulders. The muscles were tense, nearly as hard as the stone he sat on.

              “Why, Captain, would that be unwise?  We have already spent one night together.  Why deny yourself another day?” She asked, pulling lightly at his shoulder to get him to turn around.

              Hook denied her physical request and continued to stare resolutely ahead of him as he spoke.

              “Because your offer is not made with pure intentions, lass.”

              “You’re right.  I have the most decidedly impure of intentions,” Emma whispered in his ear, before biting lightly at the lobe.

              Her actions caused Hook to jump from his seat, muttering a few choice words about the powers of a siren.  He turned to face her, but quickly closed his eyes when he caught sight of her nudity.

              “Really?” She asked, incredulous.

              “Play fair, love, please.” Hook removed his greatcoat and held it out to her on his hook.

              Rolling her eyes as his dramatics, Emma grabbed the coat and quickly donned it.  “Better?” She asked.

              Opening only one eye at first, Hook released a sigh of relief when he saw that she was no longer naked.  Though by the ways his eyes slowly assessed her, she wasn’t sure the coat was doing much to calm his obvious desire.

              “Love, I would give up the treasure of Atlantis its self to spend another night of passion with you,” Hook said, holding up his hand when she made to approach him.  “But not now, not today.  You are grieving, Swan, and it would not be in good form for me to take advantage.”

              Emma’s face must have darkened a little at his words, for Hook quickly tried to clarify himself.

              “Not that I could take advantage of you, for you are a woman who can take care of herself.  But, lass,” Hook paused, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck, “People like us, who have experience with death and the taking of life, that sometimes, in the aftermath, we seek to reaffirm our own living status by engaging in…. lively activities.”

              Emma watched as a pink tinge appeared on Hook’s cheeks and for a moment she wondered how a man who was so obviously open with his attractions could be so shy when speaking about sex.

              “I would not be a gentleman if I allowed myself enjoy what you are offering.  It would not be fair, to either of us.” Hook gave her a small smile, obviously hoping his words had come across more clearly this time.

              Emma took a step forward, and when Hook made no move to stop her, continued until she stood directly in front of him. Placing her left hand on his cheek, she lightly rubbed the small scar that adorned it.

              “Just who are you, Hook?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

              “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he replied, his smile now more full and genuine.

              “Maybe I would.”

–--

              The afternoon following their trip to the hot spring, Hawkins declared that the _Jolly Roger_  would be ready to return to sea the next day.  Killian was beyond pleased, anxious to get underway.  He knew that the ship wouldn’t have been repaired this quickly without the hard work of his crew, so that evening, Killian gave them permission to spend the night ashore.  

              As captain, Killian remained on board, checking the _Jolly Roger_  from stem to stern to ensure that everything was in order. Hawkins and his sons had done a good job repairing the damage his ship had taken.  Starkey had made sure that the ship had been restocked with casks of freshwater, fruits, and he even stumbled upon a group of chickens roosting in a corner of the hold.  

              He expected to be alone on the ship, with everyone one taking their last chance to enjoy the pleasures the town had to offer. He was proven wrong when he came upon Swan laid out along the bowsprit of the ship, staring at the sky.  

              Not sure if she would welcome his intrusion on her solitude, Killian stayed back.  He busied himself by climbing the rigging and confirming the conditions of each sail for himself.  Thankfully, he found nothing amiss.  Everything was in perfect order for the remainder of their trip to Camelot.

              Killian returned to deck to find Swan watching him.

              “My apologies if I disturbed your stargazing, love,” he said.

              Swan shrugged. “I’ve never been good at finding the constellations anyways.”

              “Well allow me to rectify that, then.” Killian held out his hand to her.  When Swan took it, he guided her to the quarter deck, where they would have a better view of the sky.

              Killian stepped behind her, pressing her back to his front.  Swan tensed for just a moment, but then relaxed against him.

              “The first star you want to find is Polaris. Especially when out at sea,” Killian wrapped his hand around Swan’s wrist and pointed her hand toward the sailor’s guiding star at the end of the Ursa Minor constellation.  

              “Once you’ve found Polaris, you’ve found north. Now, what constellation do you want to find?” Killian dropped his voice and whispered in Swan’s ear.

              Her voice was unsteady when she answered him, “Draco, the dragon.”

              “It’s easiest to find the great dragon’s tail,” Killian said as he turned the two of them to face east.  He guided Swan’s hand along Ursa Minor, to the cup of the constellation.  

              “It wraps around Ursa Minor, and then all you have to do is follow it to the beast’s head.”

              Swan tilted her head to follow his movement of her arm and then allowed it to rest on his shoulder.  He pressed his cheek against the top of it, enjoying the sweet smell of her hair.

              “Tell me, Captain, what is your favorite constellation?” Swan whispered.

              Wrapping his other arm around her waist, Kilian turned them again so they were facing west.  He pointed her arm at Deneb, the top most star in the constellation of Cygnus.

              “I have always been partial to swans.”

–--

              Emma felt her body being turned again by Hook and found herself staring at the constellation she had taken her pseudonym from.

              “I have always been partial to swans,” he crooned in her ear and she couldn’t help the shiver that traveled down her spine in response.

              “I would have guessed Pegasus.  A noble steed to carry you wherever you wished,” Emma said, tapping her foot against the ship below them.

              Hook chuckled and Emma could feel the reverberations against her back.

              “Aye, Pegasus would serve me well.  However, there is nothing quite like the transformative beauty of a swan.”

              Emma turned and stared deep into his eyes as he spoke, finding no hint of a lie in his words.  When Hook’s head leaned in and his eyes began to close, she didn’t pullback.  Their lips met in a gentle kiss.

              The kiss escalated quickly and Hook’s arm around her waist pulled her tight against him.  Emma could feel his growing arousal through his trousers, pressing against her stomach.  As much as it pained her to do so, Emma broke the kiss before they could go any further. Instead, she laid her head on Hook’s chest and listened to his rapidly beating heart.

              Emma remained wrapped in Hook’s arms until both their heart rates returned to normal.  When she finally pulled back, she told him, “It would not be wise for us to… dally this evening.”  As much as she desired another night with Hook, she was currently at her most fertile and did not want to risk another unintended pregnancy.  She had been only remembered where she was in her cycle upon returning to the ship after her failed seduction of Hook at the hot spring and had been doubly thankful for his gentlemanly nature in turning her down.  

              Hook tilted his head to the side. “I’m not sure anything the two of us do is wise, love.”

              Emma laughed, knowing he was right.  “Yes, but tonight would be extra hazardous.  There is a no moon in the sky.” Knowing Hook was an educated man, she hoped that somewhere in his learning he had read about the moon’s symbolism in relation to women.  

              Hook looked skyward, obviously to confirm her statement that there was indeed no moon in the sky.  

              “There is, indeed, no moon.  I take it that you are currently in the middle of your womanly cycle, then?” Hook asked.

              Emma felt her cheeks heat at his bluntness and cursed herself for her embarrassment.  She was a woman grown, a mother, she reprimanded herself.  She would be able to speak candidly with a lover about her cycle.  

              “I am,” she said.

              Although there were other ways for the two of them to bring each other pleasure without having sex, Emma didn’t fully trust herself to not through caution to the wind in the heat of the moment.  It was better to avoid the temptation all together, as hard as it was.

              “Then allow me the pleasure of seeing you to your quarters, Swan, where I shall bid you a good night.” Ever the gentlemen, Hook held out his right arm for her to take.

              Rolling her eyes at his formality, Emma nonetheless looped her arm through his and allowed herself to be escorted below deck and to the door of her cabin.  

              “Good night, m’lady.” Hook brought her hand up to his mouth and placed a delicate kiss upon the knuckles.

              “Good night, Captain.”

–--

              Alone in her cabin, Emma flopped onto her small bed.  Burying her face into the pillow, she let out a cry of frustration and cursed herself for a fool.  She shouldn’t have kissed Hook and wound them both up.  She had wanted nothing more than to strip Hook from his layers of leather and take him there on the deck of his ship.  Instead, she was alone in her cabin, exceedingly aroused, with only herself for company.  

              Knowing she wouldn’t get any sleep keyed up as she was, Emma stripped out of her clothing and laid back along her bed. The cool air of her cabin caused her nipples to pebble.  Emma reached a hand up and rolled one between her fingers, while the other hand traveled downwards.  Fingertips just grazing over her skin, causing the muscles of her abdomen to jump. She brushed them through the blonde curls above her womanhood before slipping them into her cleft.  Her body flooded with heat and she couldn’t hold back her moan of pleasure.  

              Emma wondered if Hook had returned to his cabin to take care of himself just as she was doing.  She imagined him sitting in the chair in his cabin, legs spread wide and his cock in his hand.  She slowly massaged her clit, matching the speed her imaginary captain was using on himself.  The captain would take his time to draw out his pleasure.  Up and down his hand moved along his cock, sometimes fisting over the head.

              Her hand moved further down and she pushed two fingers against her entrance. She pumped them inside, wishing it was Hook’s cock instead.  She pressed her thumb against her clit, which caused her muscles to ripple along her fingers.

              The imaginary Captain’s hand had picked up speed and his head was thrown back in pleasure.  His cock was flushed, ready for release, just as she was.  Emma began pumping harder with the hand between her legs and her thumb circling her clit, while the other hand continued to pinch and pull on her nipples.  

              In her mind, the captain reached completion and his cock shot his seed upwards, where is splattered onto his stomach.  

              The image brought her to the edge, so she curled her fingers within, aiming for her favorite spot. Finding it, she moaned long and loud as she crested. Her breath came in gasps as she rode the wave of her orgasm, gently teasing her clit to extend the ride.

              Sated, Emma was too relaxed to bother to dress in her sleeping gown.  She simply pulled a blanket over her nude form and fell asleep.

              The _Jolly Roger_  left Silverbrooke at dawn six days after arriving.  Killian kept the ship moving due south at the fastest speed she could manage to make up time to offset the delay caused by the need for repairs.  The gods were apparently on his side; they clear skies and good winds for the entire journey so they managed the normally week-long journey in only five days.  

              Swan had taken the news that the capital city of the kingdom of Camelot, also named Camelot, was not located on the coast, as she had been led to believe with aplomb.  Loath as he as to leave  _The  Jolly Roger_ , the river that connected the port town of Hedge’s Run to Camelot was too shallow for her to manage, so Killian booked passage aboard one of the river barges for himself, Swan, and fifteen members of his crew. He had intended to leave Starkey in charge of  _The Jolly Roger_  while he was away, but his stalwart quartermaster had insisted on coming along to Camelot, so Theo was left as acting Captain instead.

              The journey upriver would take half-a-day and once they were underway, Killian found himself quite enjoying the trip. Camelot was a beautiful country and the scenery along the river was a nice change from the endless miles of ocean.

              Swan had staked out a spot among the goods being transported, away from everyone else, and had so far spent the entire journey doing maintenance on an impressive collection of weapons.

             Seeing her wrist blades removed, Killian approached her and asked, “Lass, could I get a look at your wrist blades?” He’d always been intrigued by the Assassin’s trademark weapon but had never had a chance to handle any himself.

              Swan nodded, handing one of them over. “Have a care not to stab yourself,” she told him.

              Killian took a seat on a bundle of wool and examined the weapon.   The blade was secure in a metal sheath and the assembly was fitted into the underside of a leather vambrace.    Swan’s vambraces were simply decorated.  A metal rendering of the Brotherhood’s symbol was inlaid in the leather.  In its center was a small five-petal flower, which seemed familiar, but Killian was unable to place.  The same flower was etched into the leather in various other places as well.

              Feeling along the sheath of the blades, Killian searched for the trigger that would allow the release of the blades.  Unable to find anything, he frowned.

              Hearing laughter from beside him, Killian turned to face Swan, and found her looking at him with an amused expression on her face.

              “Here,” she said, taking one of the weapons from him and holding it up to the sun so he could see inside.  “There is a small pressure switch on the inside of the brace. We press it by flexing a muscle in our arms in a specific way.”

              Swan grabbed his hand and guided his finger along the inside of the brace, until he felt a small bump in the leather. Killian pressed down and with a click, the blade ejected.

              “Older models were triggered by a ring worn on the pinky finger, but they also required the removal of the wearer’s ring finger,” Swan told him.

              “That’s some serious dedication,” Killian replied.

              Swan hummed, “It also made Assassins easy to identify. Thankfully, the design was improved upon around 200 years ago.  No more dismemberment needed.”        

              “It would be a travesty to destroy such lovely hands as yours,” Killian said with a wink.

              Swan rolled her eyes at his flirtatious remark and went back to sharpening a dagger with a whetstone.

              Killian continued to his study of the now revealed blade.  It was longer than he had imagined.  He pressed on the tip of it with his hook and watched in wonder as the top part of the blade receded into a portion below it.  The blade was three separate pieces, he realized, and each piece tucked into the interior of other.  Much like those nesting dolls he’d once seen in a market in Arendelle, imported from some kingdom far across the sea.    

              “Would you like to try it out?” The question caught Killian off guard and he looked at Swan in shock.

              “Here,” She said, reaching for his arm and rolling up the sleeve of his shirt.  He’d forgone his coat in deference to the heat of the day.

              Killian’s heart skipped a beat as Swan’s fingers skimmed across the underside of his wrist as she slipped the vambrace onto his forearm.

              “This won’t be the best fit, since these were made especially for me.  But it will give you a general idea about how they feel.” Swan pulled on one of the straps, securing the weapon to his arm.

              “Now, flex your wrist back.  That should release the blade.  Just make sure your fingers are out of the way or you may lose one.”

              Killian laughed and followed her instructions. With a flick of his wrist, the blade ejected.  It extended only an inch or so past the tip of his middle finger, but Killian remembered it looking longer on Swan’s smaller hands.

              “These are amazing,” Killian muttered.  

              Swan snorted. “They are pain to learn to use properly.  I was lucky I had magic, so I could heal the numerous cuts I gave myself.”

              “I stabbed myself more times than I can count when I first started wearing my hook,” Killian shared.  He held his wrist out to Swan, silently asking her to undo the buckles.  

              She did and then gently pulled the leather from his arm.  As she did so, her nails scratched along his arm, and that caused a shiver to travel down his body.

              “Now, tell me lass, how do you plan to subdue this Rumpelstiltskin and keep him from destroying my ship on the way back to Misthaven?” Killian asked, taking a seat on the deck of the barge and stretching out next to Swan.

              If she was thrown off by his sudden change of topic, she didn’t show it.  She simply extended her right leg and gently kicked a leather satchel she had brought on board with her.  

              “I have a set of manacles that will render Rumpelstiltskin powerless.  As long as he wears them, he should pose no threat to your ship, or any of its crew.”

              “May I?” Killian asked, gesturing toward the satchel.

              Swan hesitated at first, but nodded her permission after a few moments of apparent consideration.  

              Killian pulled the satchel towards him and heard the familiar ‘clink’ of metal chains.  After removing them from the bag and the layers of cloth they were wrapped in, he studied the workmanship.  Though he was no blacksmith, he could tell they were well made.  There were small runes carved on each link and cuff, which he assumed gave them their ability to nullify a sorcerer’s magic.

              Out of the corner of his eye, Killian noticed Swan shift.  She looked uncomfortable and was scratching at the inside of her wrist.

              “Do they bother you?  Lass, you should have said!” Killian exclaimed, hastily re-wrapping and stowing the manacles back into the satchel.

              Swan shook her head, but Killian could see that she was obviously more comfortable with the chains packed away.

              “Do they work on all magic users?” Killian asked.

              “They are only supposed to work on those who practice dark magic,” Swan replied curtly.

              Killian nodded, letting the topic drop.  They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Swan continued cleaning her weapons.

              “Have you ever been to Camelot?” she asked after sometime.

              “Only once, just after I left the Templars,” Killian admitted.  A high-ranking member of the Order had been residing in the capital city when Killian had been enacting his revenge for the death of Liam.  “It’s a nice city, as cities go.  Right on the edge of a lake.  Smells overwhelmingly like fish when the weather gets too hot though.”

              Swan nodded, a contemplative look on her face. “And the castle?”  

              “Built on a peninsula with only a few connections to the city, from what I saw.”

              “We will need to scout the area when we arrive. There is a local Brotherhood base in the city, but I won’t be able to press for certain details without giving away too much information,” Swan admitted, fiddling with a throwing knife.

              Killian grinned. “I may have the perfect solution.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried something new with the art, since both Cocohook38 (first piece) and Utopiozphere (second piece) made such wonderful pieces for this chapter. What do we think? In story better, or at the end?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way.

_\------------------------------------------------------------_

                Killian, Swan, and his crew arrived in Camelot in the late afternoon and immediately Killian set about arranging lodging.  He settled on The Frog and Frigate, and though the inn had definitely seen better days, it had enough room to house the seventeen of them without draining Swan’s purse.  That same night, Killian set out to find a contact he hoped would be able to provide him with the information Swan would need for her mission.

                Killian wasn’t in contact with many people from his days in the Templar Order, since many would be obligated to kill him on sight.  However, there was one man he had made an effort to keep track of: William Scarlet, the self-proclaimed Knave of Hearts. 

                Will had run with Robin’s gang of Merry Men once upon a time, though he had never been an official member of the Order.  He’d only become an associate after his lady love, Anastasia, had run off and married the Order’s second-in-command, Lord Ferdinand Stanford, who was also known as the Red King.  Even so, Killian had worked with him on a few missions and had developed a fondness for the lout.

                Years later, when Killian had set his sights on killing Lord Stanford, he’d gone to Will for assistance.  The Knave had been more than willing to help.  With the Red King dead, Will had had another chance to woo back Anastasia.  The last Killian had heard the two of them were living quite happily in Camelot. 

                Scarlett was not a hard man to find.  After asking a couple of questions, and passing over a few pieces of silver, Killian learned that Will could usually be found at a tavern called The White Rabbit. 

                “Got something to sell?” The barkeep asked when Killian inquired after Scarlett at The White Rabbit.

                “I might,” Killian replied, tucking his hand and hook into his belt.

                “Have a pint.  Scarlett will be around in a bit,” he was informed.

                Killian rolled his eyes, but bought a pint of beer and took a seat at an empty table.  The beer was hoppy and not at all to Killian’s taste.  The tavern, however, was just the type of place Killian frequented.  It was full of disreputable men and woman and as he waited, Killian watched as numerous illicit deals were struck.

                “So, Leonard tells me you might… By the gods, Jones!  Is that you?” Scarlett exclaimed as he took a seat across from Killian.  Killian could only laugh at the dumbfounded expression on Will’s face.

                “Most people call me by my more colorful moniker now,” Killian held up his hook. 

                Will’s eyes glanced at the shining metal implement that had replaced his missing hand, but he quickly returned to staring open mouthed at Killian.

                “You haven’t aged a day,” the shocked thief finally whispered.

                Ahhh.

\--------------------------------

                “Technically I’ve aged a few years since the last time I saw you,” Killian corrected him.

                “Aged a few years…Jones, it’s been thirteen!”

                Killian shrugged. “I spent about a decade in a realm called Neverland, where physical aging is frozen.”

                Will frowned. “Isn’t that where your brother died?”

                “One and the same,” Killian confirmed.

                “What the devil drove you back to there?” Will looked at Killian expectantly, obviously expecting an exciting story.

                Not in the mood to revisit one of the darkest times in his life, Killian gave Will a simplified version of his motivations. “I went to Neverland to retrieve Dreamshade, which has the ability to kill even the most powerful sorcerer.”

                However, Will’s next statement told him that the thief was well aware of Killian’s turbulent past. “You wanted it so you can kill Robert Gold.” 

                The name of Milah’s murderer sent white-hot rage coursing through Killian.  For a moment, he was back on _The Jolly Roger,_ watching helplessly as Robert Gold plunged his hand into Milah’s chest and removed her heart.  He’d crushed it with a squeeze of his fist and dropped the ashes in front of where Killian had been tied to the mast, slowly bleeding out from the loss of his hand. 

                Killian chugged the remainder of his beer, desperately trying to push back the painful memories 

                “Is that what has brought you to Camelot?”

                “Sadly not.  I’m here on business and was hoping you could help get the lay of the land.”

                Will raised his tankard in a mock salute.  “What do you need to know?”

\---

                Though she wasn’t keen to announce her presence in Camelot to the Brotherhood, Emma needed to know whether or not word of new status of traitor had managed to travel this far south.  The local base in Camelot was operated by her old friend August.  She was rather confident that even if he was aware of her treachery, he wouldn’t immediately alert the Brotherhood before at least hearing her out.  He adored Henry.   

                August had gone to Camelot a few years ago to help establish an Assassin presence in the country.  Though the mission had been marginally successful, the Brotherhood had established a local base of operations in the capital city to cement their small foothold.  August had been placed in charge of the base in reward for his efforts and he now helped coordinate all Assassin activity in the region.  He did so out of his teashop, Geppetto’s Tisanes, and that would need to be Emma’s first stop if she wished to make contact with him.

                So, the morning after arriving in Camelot, Emma ventured into the city with only a vague memory of where August had opened his shop.  Thankfully, people were eager to give her directions; the teashop was well known to the locals for having quality tea and tisane blends at fair prices.  Emma was sure that the Brotherhood’s connections with trading companies played a role in that.

                To Emma’s surprise and pleasure, Geppetto’s Tisanes not only sold teas and tisanes, but also served them.  Patrons occupied all of the dozen tables that lined the shop’s walls.  Men and woman from all social rankings, she noticed, taking in one man’s silk doublet and another’s rough canvas trousers.

                Emma approached the counter and waited until the shop’s lone attendant, a young man, was able to attend her. 

                “Afternoon Ma’am.  What can I get you today?” he asked as he wiped a stray tealeaf off the counter with a towel.

                “I’m here to see Mr. Pinocchio,” she told him.

                “And who may I say is calling?” The attendant asked, his eyes assessing her.

                “Swan.”

                He raised a brow. “Just Swan?”

                “Yes.  Just Swan,” she replied curtly.

                The attendant nodded and headed through a door that Emma assumed led to the back of the shop.  She studied the selection of teas behind the counter and contemplated purchasing some of the chamomile tisane. 

                When the attendant returned, he lifted a portion of the counter and indicated she should cross through the gap it left.  Steeling herself for whatever happened next, she followed him through the same door he had left through earlier.  She was right that it led to the back of the shop.  She couldn’t see the walls for all the crates that were piled high along them. 

                August was sat at a table in the center of the room, placing tealeaves on one side of a set of bronze scales.  It had been a few years since she’d seen her friend.  There were a few more strands of grey in his brown hair and in his beard, which was longer than she had ever seen it. 

                “Swan, to what do I owe the pleasure?” August asked as he stood, coming around the table to offer her his hand.  She caught a quick glimpse of his hidden blades before she took his hand and shook it, feeling odd.  The August she knew would always wrap her in a hug whether she wanted one or not. 

                Did he know she was a traitor?  That she had killed one of their brethren?

                “Business, as I’m sure you can guess,” she told him, her voice as casual as she could make it.

                August nodded, and then looked at the attendant who was still loitering behind Emma.  “That will be all, Becket,” he ordered.  Emma couldn’t help but notice the disappointed look on the young man’s face as he returned to the front of the shop. 

                “Follow me,” August whispered, pulling on her hand.  He head led her around a pile of crates and down a very thin gap between them and the wall.  It ended when it reached the corner of the room and Emma watched as August crouched and unlocked a trap door set into the floor.  Though she was still a bit worried, Emma followed August through the trap door.  Once he had lit a few lamps, she saw that she was in a subterranean room lined with all manners of weapons and gear any Assassin would could possibly need when on a mission. 

                “Emma, it is so good to see you,” August said as he wrapped her in the hug she had been missing earlier.

                “It’s good to see you too,” Emma said, relaxing into his embrace.

                After Emma had turned down his proposal of marriage when she had discovered she was with child, things had been difficult for the two of them.  August had been bitter at her refusal and nothing Emma could do could sooth his injured pride.  It had taken a few years, but eventually the two of them had returned to being friends despite that part of their history.

                “I didn’t receive any notice that you were coming to Camelot,” August said, his brows furrowing.

                “I’m afraid I’m not exactly here on official business,” Emma began.  She was unsure of how to proceed with her explanation.  August was one of her closest friends, but he was also a profoundly loyal Assassin.  Even if he wasn’t aware that she was now a traitor, could she trust him to help, or at least not interfere, with her mission?

                “There is a rumor that Robert Gold is here in Camelot,” she said, going with the same story she told Nemo.

                Her friend frowned.  “Are you sure?  I haven’t heard anything like that; I would have sent word if I had.”

                Emma shrugged. “I can’t be sure, not until I search.”

                “Everything I have here is at your disposal,” August said as he got up and began searching through a desk drawer.  He pulled out a copper disk about the size of Emma’s palm and handed it to her. “This will lead you to the safe houses we have set up in the city, should you need one.”

                “Thank you, August,” she said, meaning it. 

\---

                Emma returned to The Frog and Frigate after her visit with August armed with a detailed map of the city and updated knowledge of the local politics.

                Rumpelstiltskin had arrived in Camelot three years ago, just months after young King Arthur the seventh had ascended to the throne.  He had ingratiated himself quickly with the untried and nervous King, goading him into renewing his families quest to return the Holy Grail to Camelot.  When the old King’s advisors had disagreed with the notion that some magical cup would solve all of Camelot’s problems, they had been booted removed from their positions.   Rumpelstiltskin then became the King’s most trusted, and sole, confidant.

                Understandably, angered a number of aristocrats and for the past two years, there had been a bit of a rift between the King and his court.  Only recently had it begun to heal, with the King agreeing to marry Lady Gwendolyn, the daughter of Camelot’s formerly most powerful Count.  Rumpelstiltskin was an outspoken critic of the marriage.  Officially, he didn’t believe the woman suitable in temperament to be Queen, but everyone knew it was because he feared losing his influence over the King.

                Emma was holed up in the inn’s private dining room contemplating whether or not she could risk speaking with the disgruntled members of the court in hopes of finding an ally when Hook found her.

                “Swan! Care for a spot of lunch?” he asked, poking his head into the room.

                At the thought of food, Emma’s stomach answered for her.  Hook laughed and returned a few minutes later with two plates of food, one in his hand and the other balanced on the flat of his hook.  Emma pushed her map out of the way to make room.  Lunch was roast potatoes and a cut of meat Emma couldn’t immediately identify.

                “Have you had any luck in finding the acquaintance you mentioned yesterday?” Emma asked, around a mouthful of well-seasoned potatoes.

                “I did, in fact.  Scarlet’s always been good at keeping his ear to the ground and I’m sure he’ll be helpful when we need information.” Killian poked at the meat with his hook as he talked and Emma was glad she wasn’t the only one who was a little suspicious of it.

                “How did your visit with the local Assassin Leader go?” Killian asked, giving her a smug look.

                Emma wasn’t surprised that Hook had known where she had gone even though she hadn’t told him of her destination.

                “It could have gone worse. Word of my betrayal hasn’t managed to travel this far south,” she replied as she took a cautious bite of the meat.  It tasted like goat, but she wasn’t entirely sure. 

                “I made sure not to tell Scarlet too much about what we had planned.   Even so, he did let me know that five nights from now, the royal family is hosting a ball to celebrate the King’s recent engagement.  It may be the perfect opportunity for us to abduct this Rumpelstiltskin.”

                Emma stared at Hook, trying to comprehend his logic behind his plan.  “A ball… You’re suggesting we infiltrate the royal castle of Camelot and abduct the court sorcerer while they are hosting a ball?”

                “Come now, Swan.  History tells me this is a tried and true Assassin tradition.  Didn’t Ezio Auditore once assassinate a prince at his own banquet?” Hook countered.

                Emma blinked. “He was protecting the Prince, actually.” she answered, amazed that Hook knew such an obscure piece of Assassin history.

                He waved his hook dismissively. “Regardless, at a soiree of this size, the guards will be tired, over worked, and likely a bit drunk.  It’ll be the perfect time to go unnoticed.”

                Slouching in her chair, Emma rubbed her forehead, frowning.  However much she disliked the proposed plan, she had to admit that Hook’s reasoning wasn’t far off the mark.  With so many people attending a royal function, there would be plenty of unknown faces to blend in with if needed.

                “I can only see this plan working if Rumpelstiltskin isn’t attending the ball itself.  We can’t kidnap him from a room full of people,” she said, beginning to consider the plan against her better judgment.

                Hook grinned, excited, and Emma’s heart skipped a beat.

                “I’ll talk to Will again and see what he can tell me about the sorcerer’s habits.  Providing, of course, you don’t mind giving him an idea of who you are after.”

                Emma thought about that as she finished her lunch.  She wasn’t thrilled about the idea of revealing so much about her plan to another person.  As friendly as she had become with the men of Hook’s crew, only the Captain and Starkey knew the target of her mission.

                “Do you trust this Will Scarlet?” She finally asked.

                Hook took his time to think about her question before answering. “It’s been over a decade since I’ve worked with the man, but he’s never been the type to sell out another for his own benefit.  The only way he would betray us would be if Anastasia is in danger.”

                Emma had to grudgingly admire Hook’s honesty, but she wasn’t ready to let down that wall yet. “Why don’t you take me to meet Scarlet and I’ll judge for myself whether he is trustworthy.”

\---

                Killian was initially hesitant to take Swan to The White Rabbit.  Even though he knew that Swan was more than capable of taking care of herself, he felt the need to protect her from any situation where she might need to do so.

                So during the walk to the tavern, Killian found himself walking closer to Swan than was strictly necessary, under the guise of telling her about his history with Will Scarlet.  She asked a lot of pointed questions, probing his memories of the thief. 

                When they reached The White Rabbit, Killian casually rested his hand on the small of Swan’s back as he guided her towards the bar.  She gave him a questioning look, but didn’t object.

                “Will you tell Scarlet that Jones is here to see him?” Killian asked Leonard, the same barkeep from the night before.

                “Got something to sell this time?” the man asked, glaring.

                “No.  But he should be expecting me.” Killian had had Logan deliver a message to Scarlet earlier in the day that he would be stopping by. 

                Leonard grunted. “Scarlet’s busy.  Have a pint while you wait.”

                Killian noticed Swan rolling her eyes at Leopold’s recalcitrance as he purchased two pints of beer.  He was happy to see that they appeared to have run out of the hoppy beer from the night before and had switched to an ale.

                He and Swan took a seat at a table near the back of the tavern.  Since they both wanted to keep their backs to the wall, he and Swan both ended up on the same side of the table.  Together, they sipped their ale and watched the taverns other patrons.  Well, Swan was studying their surroundings, but Killian found himself watching his companion instead. 

                “Has your friend become a fence?” Swan asked, her eyes glancing around the room.  He figured she was cataloguing all of the available exits.

                “I suppose,” he answered.  It fit.  Scarlet had always had a good eye for valuables.

                Killian was almost finished with the halfway decent ale when Scarlet dropped into the seat across from Swan and himself.  Scarlet gave Swan a quick once over before he grinned at Killian. 

                “Jones, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

                “Scarlet, this is Swan. It is her business that has brought me to Camelot.  Swan, William Scarlet.” Killian introduced them and watched as the two of them sized the other up as they shook hands.

                From the way she was frowning, Swan was clearly unimpressed with Scarlet.  Killian couldn’t blame her; Scarlet had always had an aura of a man who couldn’t be fully trusted.  His smile, unless it was for Anastasia, was always a little sly, his hands too quick. 

                Regardless, Swan forged ahead.  “I need to know about the court sorcerer, Rumpelstiltskin.”

                Scarlet clucked his tongue. “He’s a mystery, that one.  Showed up out of the blue a few years back and weaseled his way into Arthur’s good graces.  Word is he practices dark magic.”

                Swan frowned, evidently unhappy to be receiving information she had heard before.

                Scarlet continued, “Came to see me, last year, asking about some dagger.  Gives me the creeps, that one.” Scarlet gave a visible shiver to emphasize his point.  “Is he who you’re after?”

                “In a way,” Swan said tersely. 

                Scarlet shrugged his shoulders.  “Well the Kingdom won’t be sad to see him gone.  What kind of information do you need?”

                “I need to know his habits.  Does he keep to himself?  Spend most of his time in Merlin’s Tower?  Go anywhere in the city on a regular basis?” Emma demanded.

                Taking a sip of his pint, Hook watched as Scarlet leaned back in his chair, obviously deep in thought.

                “Rumor has it he spends most of his time in the Tower,” Scarlet said eventually, with some reluctance.  “Only really appears when the King requests his presence for meetings or royal functions.   Even then, he leaves as early as protocol allows.   Rarely comes into town.”

                Killian grinned.  If Rumpelstiltskin normally left royal functions early, he would likely be alone in his tower the night of the royal ball.

                “Any chance you have a map of the castle?” Killian found himself asking, excited that his plan may have true merit.

                Scarlet rolled his eyes at him before he replied, “Might.”

                “It would be quite helpful if we could borrow it,” Swan said as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. 

                Scarlet looked unconvinced about lending out such a valuable bit of information.  Or at least he was until Killian fished into his pocket and laid a couple of silver coins on the table.  Scarlet quickly scooped them up.

                “It’s at home.  I’ll bring it by your inn in the morning.”

\---

                Emma was pleased to find that Scarlet was good on his word and did, in fact, show up the next day at The Frog and Frigate just as she was finishing her breakfast.  Map acquired, she and Hook commandeered the same private dining room she had used yesterday to pore over it.

                The map was remarkably detailed.  It not only included the locations of main rooms and halls, but smaller ones such as closets and lavatories.  There were even notations about the usual routes guards took in different parts of the castle when on patrols.  She had no doubt that Camelot’s King had lost some precious items to the intrepid William Scarlet.

                “If this is accurate, there is a small gate on the south side of the castle that leads to the gardens.  It looks like there is a service road that cuts through the forest that leads up to it.  We could enter the grounds there and as so long as we avoid the kitchens, we should be able to make our way towards the Tower without being noticed,” Emma muttered, mostly to herself.

                “Yes, we could do that, or…” the sound of a chair scrapping against stone caused Emma to raise her head.  Hook made his way over to where she sat and held out his hand in invitation.  Confused, Emma none the less placed her hand in his and allowed herself to drawn towards him.

                “Or, we could attend the celebrations as invited guests, have ourselves a jolly good time, and then wander off.” Hook’s left arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her close, and he began to lead her in the first few steps of a waltz.  “The guards won’t outright challenge a couple of lost guests, or those seeking somewhere private for some.... personal delights.” Hook had brought his lips close to her neck as he’d spoken, practically breathing the last words in her ear. 

                Emma shivered.  “We’re planning to abduct one of the most powerful sorcerers in the realms and all you can think about is personal delights?”

                “I am a man of many talents, Swan,” Hook whispered.

                Emma allowed herself to enjoy the feel of Hook’s arms around her for a moment longer than she should have before pulling away.  He let her go without a fuss.

                “First things first.  We have plans to make.  Pleasure will have to wait for later.” 

                As soon as the words left her mouth, Emma figured she was in for some witty and flirtatious comeback from Hook.  Instead, he simply smiled and bowed.  “I look forward to it,” before joining her in once more studying Scarlet’s map.

                “We can make out way to Merlin’s tower through the gardens,” Hook added, tracing the route he was describing with a finger. “Once we have the sorcerer, we can go out through the gate you mentioned.  Starkey can meet us with a carriage or cart.”

                Together, they managed to come up with the beginnings of a plan that seemed like it would actually succeeded. However, there were a few factors that needed to be sorted before they could fully commit to arranging the finer details.

                One, they would need invitation to attend the royal ball. 

                Two, a well maintained but unremarkable carriage would be needed to transport them to the castle and again away once they had Rumpelstiltskin in custody.  It would also need to be sturdy enough to make the overland trip back to Hedge’s Run and _The Jolly Roger._   Hook had deemed it too dangerous to involve any of the local barge captains and risk the journey by boat.

                And, most importantly, three, Emma would need to determine how she could hide any necessary weapons and gear she would need within whatever frippery was in fashion this season for Camelot’s ruling class.  

                The invitation, of course, would be the hardest to obtain.  When asked whether or not he though Scarlet would be able to procure one, Hook shook his head. 

                “I’m sure he can get us a carriage no one will miss and some respectable clothes, but I doubt he is that well connected.  We will need a legitimate invitation.  A stolen one would only get us arrest.”

                Disappointing as his assessment was, Emma agreed. 

                Sadly, that would leave them with only one other option: The Brotherhood.

\---

                Around midday, Emma set out once again toward Geppetto’s Tisanes.  August, she hoped, would have the contacts to procure an invitation and not ask too many questions about why.

                The teashop was busy when she arrived, with both August and Becket alternating between being behind the counter selling tea and serving those customers drinking at the tables.  Emma managed to secure a table of her own when a couple of elderly gentlemen left and settled in to wait.

                After a few minutes, August brought her a pot with tea a deep red in color and a single cup and saucer.  No sugar, no cream.  He knew she wouldn’t use either. 

                The tea was her favorite, called Yunnan Black, and it came from Mulan’s home empire in the east.  It was rich and malty, with a note of sweetness at the end.

                It reminded her of home, of long days learning the intricate art of diplomacy from her mother and even longer nights mastering the Assassin’s deadly arts.  Mulan had first introduced her to the tea when the two of them had been Initiates together, trying to memorize the many ways to kill with a single stroke of a blade.

                Allowing herself to enjoy the memories, time passed, and eventually the shop’s business slowed enough to August to join her at her table.  He brought with him his own pot of tea, a pungent smelling brew that made her wrinkle her nose.

                “It is a pleasure to see you again so soon, Emma,” her friend said with a smile as he sat across from her.

                “Likewise.  However, I’m afraid I am here to talk more business,” Emma replied, glancing around to assess the safety of speaking in the shop.  It was mostly empty, with Becket behind the counter and a few patrons lingering at a table on the far side of the room.

                August gathered their pots of tea and cups onto a tray and transported them into the back of the shop, jerking his head to indicate she should follow. 

                “This should be fine,” Emma said.  Trying to make August navigate the steep ladder down to the secure room below while balancing pots of hot tea seemed dicey.

                August nodded and together they cleared a spot on his worktable.

                “I need an invitation to the royal ball being held in a few days,” Emma said frankly.

                August barely reacted to her blunt request.  The only sign of his surprise was barely visible tightening of his lips. He, like Emma, had been well-taught not to show shock even at the most outrageous of statements.

                “Emma, why?” he asked calmly.

                Emma sipped her tea, fortifying herself.  “Robert Gold enjoys the finer things in life and isn’t likely hiding among the common folk of Camelot.  If I am to find him, he’ll be among the elite of the kingdom.”  

                August studied her for a few moments.  Every Assassin was trained to spot a lie, but they were also schooled in how to tell one without giving any of the telltale signs.

                “I have a few contacts who may be able to get one.  I’ll see what I can do,” he said at last, sighing heavily. “Just promise me you don’t do anything rash, if you do find him.  I can’t help you if you create a diplomatic incident.  Not without the Brotherhood’s say-so.”

                “I promise,” Emma said.  The lie tasted like ash in her mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way.

_\------------------------------------------------------------_

                Emma returned to the inn in a morose mood and immediately headed to her rented room.  Being the only woman and the patron of the voyage allowed her the honor of a private room, and Emma was sincerely grateful for that fact this evening. 

                Alone, Emma allowed herself to feel the weight of her actions.   Her lies to August weighed heavy on her soul, making her feel sluggish, despite the necessity of them.  He had once been one of her dearest friends and she was betraying his trust in the worst way possible.  He would be in serious trouble with the Brotherhood once word got out that she had used Assassin resources to abduct Camelot’s Court Sorcerer.

                Between Jenny’s death at her own hands and the eventual fallout of her actions in Camelot, Emma wondered if the Brotherhood would only go so far as to declare her a traitor.  As much as Emma liked to believe that her royal status protected her from more extreme punishments, she knew that the Brotherhood would kill her if they deemed her too much of a threat to their goals.

                Emma’s miserable thoughts were interrupted by a light knock on her room door.  At first, she intended to ignore the knock, but Hook’s soft call of “Swan?” made Emma change her mind.  She was too curious about how his and Starkey’s meeting with Scarlet had gone.

                Emma opened the door just as Hook was raising his hand to knock again.  At first Hook smiled when he saw her, but it quickly formed into a frown.

                “Swan, are you alright?” His hand came up and cupped her face, his thumb sliding smoothly through the tears Emma hadn’t known were there. 

                Leaning into the comforting warmth of his palm, Emma closed her eyes. “It’s been a long couple of weeks,” she admitted.

                “Aye, that it has,” Hook whispered. 

                Emma felt as his left arm wrapped around her waist and allowed herself to be drawn into his embrace.  She relaxed against him.  Hook must have bathed since they had arrived in Camelot, she realized, since he didn’t smell like weeks of sweat.  Instead, there was an underlying spiciness and she wondered if it was from the rum he drank or just him.

                Whatever it was, Emma found herself reacting to it.  Heat spread down her belly and to the area between her legs.  Unconsciously, she pressed herself more firmly against Hook, who groaned softly in response.

                For a moment, Emma wondered if Hook would reject her subtle advance.  However, all negative thoughts were dispelled when the fingers of his hand wove themselves into her hair and angled her head upward toward his.

                As they kissed, Emma stepped backwards, maneuvering them further into her room.  Hook’s foot kicked the door closed.

                There was no urgency as they slowly began to divest each other of their clothes.  Hook’s coat dropped to the floor with a thud, followed shortly by his vest.

                Emma moved her hands underneath his shirt and ran her fingers up the soft planes of his abdomen, enjoying the way his muscles jumped in response.  Though she had seen Hook topless on _The Jolly Roger_ , Emma nevertheless allowed herself a moment to enjoy the sight.

                The chest hair she always glimpsed through the deep neckline of his shirts was widespread, dusting heavily across his breast. She had learned that it was very soft when they had been pressed chest to chest during their tryst on his ship a few weeks ago.  It thinned as it trailed down his stomach, but Emma knew that it grew in abundance at the base of his cock.  Said cock, Emma could see, was straining against the confines of his tight leather trousers.

                Emma pressed her hand against the bulge and Hook dropped his head onto her shoulder with a moan.  She palmed it through the leather for a moment, before quickly undoing the laces and setting him free.  Emma began to stroke him, but had to let go when Hook undid the clasps of her vest and pushed it down her arms.  Her tunic soon joined it on the floor.

                Hook grabbed her head with hand and hook and pressed his lips back to hers.  Suddenly, the sense of urgency that was absent before was all Emma could think about.  She shoved Hook’s trousers down his hips and growled when they stopped at his boots.

                Chuckling, Hook sat on the bed and removed both boots and trousers, before kneeling and helping her with her own. 

                Staying on his knees, Hook drew her close to him with an arm around her hips and kissed just below her belly button.  He worked his way down and nosed against her blonde thatch of hair.

                “You smell wonderful, love,” he muttered against her before lightly pressing his hook against her ankle to get her to widen her stance.

                She did and was rewarded when Hook pressed his face into her mound.  He used his finger’s spread her nether lips open and Emma moaned as his tongue flicked across her clit.   

                Emma’s knees went weak when Hook moved further down and started to move his tongue in and out of her.  He must have noticed because he leaned back, gave her a wicked smirk, and nodded towards the bed.  Once she had laid down, Hook positioned her legs over his shoulders and picked up where he had left off.

                Within minutes, Emma was seeing stars as she experienced one of the most mind-blowing orgasms.  She couldn’t keep herself silent as it crashed over her and she screamed out in pleasure.  When she finally came to, panting, dazed Hook was still kneeling between her legs, but now with a self-satisfied smile on his face.

                Meeting it with one of her own, Emma crooked her finger at him.  Hook complied and climbed his way up her body, placing soft kisses on her skin as he did so.

                When they were face to face, Emma leaned up and captured Hook’s lips. The scratch of his beard, so rough on her sensitive thighs, was much more pleasant against her face.

                Emma shifted and lifted one leg to wrap it around Hook’s hips, pulling them closer to her own. 

                “Fuck me, Hook,” Emma demanded.

                Hook hesitated, but just for a moment, before he braced himself on his hook and guided himself into her.

                Emma moaned.

                Then he began to move and she ceased to have any coherent thoughts.

                All Emma knew was the pleasure radiating through her body with each pump of Hook’s hips into her own.  The sharp sting as his teeth bit lightly at her neck, the press of his nails into the skin of her ass; every sensation brought her closer to another climax.

                Chasing it, Emma squeezed her hand between Hook’s body and her own and toyed with her clit.  She circled it, teasing herself until she was too keyed up to deny herself any longer.  When her second orgasm hit, she pressed her face into Hook’s shoulder and bit down on the muscle there.  That was the final push Hook needed because an instant later, the rhythm of his hips against her own became erratic.   Soon, Hook moaned as he found his own release and collapsed atop her.

                Once Hook had caught his breath, he rolled off her.  For a moment, they both just stared at the ceiling in silence, until Hook made a move to stand.  Before she knew what she was doing, Emma reached out and grasped his arm.  She didn’t stay anything, but Hook stopped and stared at her for a brief moment before returning to lay next to her.

                “Thank you,” Emma whispered, curling herself into his side.  She wasn’t sure where her desire for him to stay was coming from.  All she knew was that there, with his arm wrapped around her, she felt more relaxed than she had since leaving Misthaven.

\---

                Killian had been beyond surprised when Swan had silently requested he stay after their latest tryst.  He was glad she did, though, because the sight of Swan relaxed in sleep was one he would remember for the rest of his life.  She was beautifuld Killian never wanted to let go.

                Shortly after falling asleep, Swan had curled further into his side and claimed his chest as her pillow.  Killian had woven his hand into her hair, uncaring that it was heavy with sweat from their coupling.  He loved the feel of it in his hand.  Swan had stirred when he had started to massage her scalp with his fingers, nose scrunching up, but soon settled further in his arms with a sigh.

                Though Killian had wanted to stay awake and memorize the light freckles decorating Swan’s skin, he soon followed her into dreamland.  He woke when the dawn sun began to steam through the window of east facing room. 

                Killian squeezed his eyes closed, hoping to block it out.  A light chuckle came from his side and he opened his eyes to see Swan smiling up at him.

                “And here I thought sailors were early risers,” she said.

                Killian hummed, rubbing his hand across his face.  His beard was getting long, he noted, and would need a trim soon.  Definitely before they went masquerading as aristocrats in Camelot’s castle.

                “All this time on land must be making me soft,” he replied.

                Swan rolled her eyes at him as she stretched.  In the process, her hand brushed not-so-subtly against something decidedly not soft. Killian tried unsuccessfully to bit back the resultant moan.  He wasn’t surprised to find that he had woken with a morning hard-on.  He was, after all, a man.  But he was surprised that when Swan noticed his condition, she gave a smirk to rival one of his own and quickly maneuvered herself down the bed.

                “What…” Killian began to ask but his voice cut off when Swan leaned down and deftly took him into her mouth.

                Her tongue circled his tip and even lightly teased at the slit while her hand stroked the rest of his length.  Killian moaned aloud when Swan hollowed her cheeks, giving his cock a hard suck.  After, she lowered her head, taking as much of him into her mouth as she was able.  Keeping her hand moving over what she couldn’t, the duel sensations soon brought Killian to the edge.

                “Swan, I…” Killian wheezed.  She ignored him, instead moving her hand to cup his balls, rolling them in her palm.  The combined sensations set Killian off and he came, hard.  Swan didn’t move away and Killian could feel her throat working as she swallowed down his release.

                Feeling relaxed after the unexpected pleasure, Killian reached down and carefully pulled Swan back up the bed.  She nestled against his side, her hand stroking through his chest hair.

                “Thank you, lass.  That was amazing,” Killian said, weaving his finger into her hair.

                Swan started at him for a moment. At last she replied hesitantly, “I should be thanking you, Hook.  You’ve been an invaluable partner… and somehow always seem to know what I need when things get difficult.”

                Killian smiled. “It is my pleasure, Swan.  Quite literally,” he told her.

                Swan laughed and slapped his chest lightly. He cleared his throat and smiled, adding, “In all honesty, love, I’m glad to be of service, in any way you need.”

\---

                When Emma and Hook finally emerged from her room, it was too late for them to join the other members of the crew for breakfast.  Needing to replenish the energy they had expended the night before, they headed to the marketplace to scrounge up from food.  They were enjoying some meat pies from a local vendor when Starkey found them.

                “Lady Swan, this came for you at the inn,” he stated, holding out a letter.

                It bore the seal of the Brotherhood in the black wax, so Emma knew that it was from August.  Although she hadn’t told him where she was staying, she was unsurprised that he’d figured it out.  Emma cracked the seal and pursued the contents of the missive.  It was short, simply stating that August had procured what she had asked for.

                “That was quick,” Hook said, cocking a wry brow.

                “Well, he’s had years to build his connections in the city,” she admitted.

                “Speaking of connections, Scarlet believes he has a carriage that will suit our needs.  As for clothing, he thinks Ana may be willing to part with one of her gowns.  It will be easier than finding a tailor to make one last minute.  We can have it modified so that you can carry some gear,” Killian informed her.

                Though there were still some details to work out, Emma was pleased that things were coming together.

                “What about you?” Emma asked, “I don’t think they’ll let you in dressed as normal.”

                Hook frowned, glancing down at himself. “No, I suppose not.  I should see about getting myself something more appropriate.”

                “Leave that to me, Captain,” Starkey insisted, “I’ll collect a gown from Scarlet’s lady and find a tailor to suit our needs.”

                Hook nodded and Starkey headed off.  At Emma’s confused glance, Hook blushed and scratched behind his ear.  “I don’t enjoy standing still while tailors take my measurements, so I am afraid I am a rather problematic client,” he admitted.

                Emma imagined an impatient Hook snapping at some poor tailor and was glad that Starkey had been astute enough to spare him the torture. “Why don’t you come with me to Geppetto’s this afternoon?  You can have some tea while I collect the invitation,” she offered.

                At Hook’s raised brow, Emma belatedly realized that she had just invited a former Templar to an Assassin base.  Despite how unconventional her action was, she wasn’t about to rescind her invitation.  August would only know that Hook was her partner in this endeavor and not that he had once been a Templar.

                Stomachs full, Emma and Hook returned to the inn to work out the finer details of their plan.  Now that they had secured an invitation and were close to having a carriage, the biggest issue had become how they would manage to bring the squid ink manacles they would need to subdue Rumpelstiltskin into the castle. 

                Hook suggested hiding them in whatever clothing Starkey managed to secure him, but they proved to create too much noise when he moved, even when muffled under the layers of his leather vest and greatcoat. 

                “Any chance of securing regular squid ink?  We could leave the chains with Starkey and use that until we reach him and the carriage,” Hook suggested.

                “I doubt it.  Also, liquid squid ink would render Rumpelstiltskin immobile.  We would have to carry him out,” Emma answered, frowning. 

                “That sounds unpleasant,” he replied.  Emma nodded, annoyed.

                They set the problem aside for later and worked on another.  Because the current fashion for woman’s gowns had short, shoulder capping sleeves and bare arms, Emma would need a creative manner in which to bring her hidden blades with her.  Hook offered to wear one on his blunted arm.  With a little adjustment, the vambrace fit well enough for her to be confident he wouldn’t accidentally trigger the blade. 

                That left one more and again, Hook delivered a novel solution.  Because the gown Emma would be wearing would be floor length, he suggested she place the other on her lower leg.  It was uncomfortable, since her calves were wider than her forearms, but she managed to walk without the blade stabbing through her foot.

                Though it was unnecessary, Hook insisted on helping her remove the weapon from her leg.  His hand gently skimmed down her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

                While Hook was on his knees in front of Emma, he repaid her for the unexpected pleasure she had given him that morning.  Though it meant they left for August’s shop later than she had intended, Emma found that she didn’t care.  Captain Hook had a talented tongue, and not just for words.

\---

                Emma and Hook arrived at August’s shop just as Becket was closing up (or at least she thought he was, if the way he glared at them was any indication).  Even so, he prepared them a pot of tea, a spicy chai Hook insisted she try, and went to retrieve August from the back.

                She and Hook took a seat at one of the many empty tables.  Emma arranged herself so that she would know when August emerged from the back room.  He did a few minutes later, pausing for brief moment.  Watching his face, Emma knew he was surprised to find her not alone.

                Emma stood and drew her friend forward.  “Pinocchio, may I introduce Captain Hook.  Hook, Pinocchio.” It had been a long time since she’d used August’s alias, but he would not appreciate his real name being given to a stranger.

                Though Emma could see that August was uncomfortable from his stiff demeanor, he held out his hand to Hook and the two men shook hands.

                “I see you got my message,” August said, taking a seat at the table.  He waved Becket off; the young man once again looked disgruntled at being left out, but obediently left the room.

                “I did.  Thank you for getting it so quickly,” Emma said, holding out her hand expectantly.

                August sighed, pulling a thick envelop from his inner pocket.  He didn’t immediately hand it over, though, gently toying with the edges.

                “Swan, I don’t like this,” he said quietly.  “Even if Robert Gold is hiding among the court, what do you plan to do about it?  You can’t just kidnap him and force him to help you.”

                Emma’s heart skipped a beat; August had hit the nail on the head about her plan.  To her even greater distress, when she looked over at Hook, she found that his face had lost all it color.

                “Hook, what is wrong?” she asked, pulling on his arm, frowning.

                “Robert Gold.  Did you say Robert Gold?” Hook growled.  Emma started at his vicious tone.

                August’s hand went to his side; he kept a plethora of small knives there, and Emma hoped he wasn’t about to throw one. “Yes, Robert Gold.  That is why you’re here, isn’t it?” he inquired warily.

                “Rumpelstiltskin.  We’re after a man named Rumpelstiltskin,” Hook said.  He looked toward Emma and she saw confusion and hatred waring on his face.  

                August stood so fast his chair tipped over. “Rumpelstiltskin?!” He yelled. “Swan, are you insane?”

                Ignoring August, Emma turned her attention to Hook. “I believe Rumpelstiltskin is Robert Gold, the man I need to break the curse on my son,” she explained desperately.

                Hook stood and began to pace the length of the shop.  Emma followed, worried.

                “Hook, who is Robert Gold to you?” She grabbed his arm, trying to make him face her.

                Hook ripped his arm from her grasp and whipped his hook up to her face, so swiftly that she flinched.  “Robert Gold is the man who did this,” he snarled.

                Emma’s heart dropped.  She took a deep breath, trying to get her bearings.  “Hook, I didn’t know,” she said at last, quietly.  “I never would have… I never would have brought you into this if I had known.”

                Instead of responding to her stumbling explanation, the man in front of her let out a harsh laugh.

                “I’m sorry, lass, I truly am.  But after all these years, my crocodile is finally within my grasp.  And I will have my revenge!”

                With that final, hissed threat, Hook turned and marched out of the shop.  “Hook, no!” Emma begged, moving to follow him.

                But before she could take more than a step, August grabbed her arm. “Emma!” August hissed.

                “August, I need to go!” She pulled on her arm, trying to release it from her friend’s grasp.

                “Emma,” August repeated; but this time his voice was quiet; almost gentle. Emma, feeling her eyes sting, managed to look at him. “I asked a couple of questions to my contact when I was getting the invitation.  Emma, he believes that Rumpelstiltskin has become the Dark One.”

\---

                “Starkey!” Emma shouted as she barged through the door of The Frog and Frigate, scanning the room for _The Jolly Roger’s_ quartermaster .  Most of the inn’s patrons ignored her, but Logan’s head had shot up from his card game when she burst through his door.

                “Swan?” he inquired, eyebrows drawn in worry.

                “Logan, where is Starkey?” Emma asked the crewman, hands on her thighs as she tried to catch her breath.  She’d run all the way to the inn once Hook had stormed out of August’s shop.

                “Starkey is out acquiring supplies for our…” Logan glanced about to make sure no one was eavesdropping, “adventure a few nights from now.”  The crew might not know the specifics of Emma’s mission, but they knew enough.

                “Well, we need to find him, now.  Rumpelstiltskin is Robert Gold and I think Hook is going to go after him alone.”

                Logan blinked, apparently digesting the information she had just disclosed.  Though he may not know who Rumpelstiltskin was, he had heard of Robert Gold and of his connection to his Captain.  Swearing, he turned to his card companions and said, “Smee, find the rest of the men and gather them here.  We’ll be back as soon as we find Starkey.”

                Orders given, she and Logan ran out of the inn and toward the marketplace Starkey had indicated earlier as his destination.  They found him at the tailors, which surprised Emma until she remembered that Starkey had volunteered to arrange the clothing she and Hook would need to infiltrate the royal ball as guests.

                “Captain’s gone after the crocodile,” Logan informed Starkey.

                The quartermaster immediately dropped the sleeve of a brown coat he was assessing.  “He’s here in Camelot?”  Starkey asked. He followed them out of the tailor’s shop, fuming.

                “Robert Gold IS Rumpelstiltskin,” Emma explained. 

                In response, the seasoned sailor let out a string of curses that left Emma wishing she had a translator.  Still, while she may not know what “kiss the gunner’s daughter” meant, she had a feeling it was not something one wanted to do. 

                When they returned to the Frog and Frigate, Emma pulled Starkey into the private dining room off the main hall. “I’m afraid the situation is even worse than you think,” she said quietly.  “According to rumor, Rumpelstiltskin is the Dark One.  And when you kill the Dark One…”

                “You become the Dark One,” Starkey finished, the blood draining from his face. 

\---

                Under the direction of Starkey, the crew of the _Jolly Roger_ split up and began the search for their wayward Captain.  Each person took a different route across the city towards the castle in the hope that someone would spot Hook before he made it to Merlin’s Tower. In true Assassin fashion, Emma took to the rooftops of the city, jumping across gaps between buildings when necessary, her eyes always cast downward in hopes of spotting a familiar leather-clad figure.  

                Emma had distributed her stash of sleeping potion tipped-darts amongst the men, though she hoped no one had to resort to their use.  She didn’t think that Hook would take kindly to any member of his crew drugging him, no matter their intentions.

                In her own dart pouch, Emma carried something much worse: three darts dipped in the venom of the Agrabahn Viper.  A last resort, if it came down to it.  She didn’t want the price of her son’s life to be the Captain’s, but by the gods, she needed Robert Gold alive. 

                Emma had no luck finding Hook along her route, so when the city ended at the edge of the lake, she found a high point from which to keep an eye on the bridge that lead to the castle.  Because it was kept heavily defended, the bridge would not be an ideal point of entrance.  Her trained mind, however, could spot a few pathways across that would avoid most of the guards.  She kept her attention on those paths, all the while silently praying she wouldn’t see Hook scaling along the edge of the bridge. 

                Hours passed and as the dawn sun started to peek over the mountains, Emma began to slowly make her way back to the Frog and Frigate. 

                She reached the inn just after the innkeeper and his wife were beginning to serve breakfast; her stomach growled as the savory aromas reached her nose.  She collected a few links of sausage, a bowl of sweet porridge, and some bread, fresh from the oven.  Logan waved her over to where he and the Wyatt brothers were already seated.  Based on their morose expressions, they’d had no luck finding Hook either.

                The four of them were brainstorming places to search in the city when Starkey approached the table.  He looked exhausted, the wrinkles on his weathered face more pronounced. 

                “I’ve hired some local lads to help some of the men search the less pleasant areas of Camelot.  The rest of us should get some rest while we can.” 

                Emma nodded, thankful.  Her weariness was catching up with her and she could use a few hours of sleep.  However, as she made towards the staircase that would lead to her room, Starkey called her into the side dining room she had used earlier.

                “I am afraid, Lady Swan, that Killian will not be found no matter how hard we may search. Blinded as revenge as he may be, he’s a smart lad.  He knows how to hide, when needed,” the quartermaster told her.

                Emma had been afraid of this.  If a man who seemed to know Hook better than most had no faith that searching would locate the captain, then their efforts were next to useless.

                “Lass,” Starkey said, shifting his weight side to side, “Killian mentioned to me that you are adept in the use of magic but that you are currently restricted in your use of it.  However, is there no spell you can use to find him?”

                “There’s no need.”

                Emma jumped, startled by Hook’s sudden appearance in the doorway behind them.  He looked wretched. His dark hair was askew in all directions, his face pale except for the dark circles under his eyes. 

                “My apologies for worrying you Starkey.  And you, Lady Swan,” Hook said, giving both of them a stiff bow.  When he righted, Emma saw that his right arm was pressed tight against side. 

                “You’re injured,” she blurted out. 

                “Nothing but a scratch, I assure you,” Hook said, but Emma was already undoing the clasps of his vest.

                She carefully ran her hand along Hook’s abdomen.  His shirt along his right side was wet and when she pulled her hand back, they were red with blood.

                “Upstairs, now,” Starkey ordered, glaring at his captain in a way that made Emma think twice about ever crossing the man.

                Hook sighed, resigned, and the three of them made their way upstairs to the room Hook and Starkey shared at the inn.

                Carefully, Emma helped Hook undress.  There was a long cut in the side of his vest.  Thankfully, the wound was smaller, the leather of the vest taking much of the damage.

                “What happened?” Emma asked as she and Starkey helped Hook lie down. 

                “I was an idiot,” Hook said, hissing through his teeth when Starkey pressed a rum-soaked bit of cloth against the wound.  “Went to a tavern and got piss- drunk.  Said something I shouldn’t have had to another man and ended up on the wrong side of his knife.” 

                “So, Rumpelstiltskin… Robert Gold… is he still alive?” Emma’s heart was beating loudly in her chest, afraid of the answer. 

                Hook leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Aye, the crocodile lives.”

                Tear of relief sprang to Emma’s eyes.  She grabbed Hook’s hand and gave it a squeeze.  When he opened his eyes in response, she could see tears of his own gleaming in his eyes.

                Emma reached up and turned Hook’s face toward her own. “Thank you.”

                “You’re welcome, Swan,” Hook whispered.  He turned his face and placed a kiss on the inside of her palm.

                The intimate mood was broken when Starkey interrupted with a frustrated sigh. “Killian, you’ve got no more brains than a sea turtle sometimes.” 

                “That may be an insult to sea turtles, mate,” Hook replied, his voice tight as the quartermaster cleaned his wound with more rum.

                “Don’t get flippant with me, Killian.  You’re lucky this is the only wound you got during your misadventure,” Starkey scolded.

                “Aye, I know.” 

                Starkey sighed. “I’m proud of you, though.  You did the right thing,” he said, begrudgingly.

                Hook looked taken aback for a moment, and then smiled. 

                “Now,” Starkey continued, “We need to close this wound.  Since Victor stayed on the _Jolly_ Roger in Hedge’s Run, that job falls to us.”  Starkey held up a curved needled and a length of catgut suture thread that he had pulled from a small satchel.  “I imagine your needlework is a fair bit neater than mine.” 

                Emma looked at Hook’s wound, assessing.  It was about the length of her index finger and wasn’t deep, but it was gaping open due to the pull of the muscles in the area.  A half-dozen stitches or so would hold it close, but it would be weeks until it healed properly. 

                Frowning at the wound, Emma ignored the proffered needle and thread and carefully placed her hand on the injury.  Releasing the tight hold she had on her magic, she channeled it into the wound.  In a matter of moments, it healed.  There wasn’t even a scar to mark its presence.

                Hook stared at her in shock.

                “Lass, you shouldn’t have,” he finally said, the words choked.

                “I need you fighting fit, Captain,” Emma replied, standing and making her way to the door.  “Get some rest.  We still have a sorcerer to kidnap.”

\-------------------- -------------------- 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To “Kiss the gunner’s daughter” is to be bent over a cannon and flogged.
> 
> Art for this chapter by Cocohook38.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way.

_\------------------------------------------------------------_               

              Though Emma’s mind was still reeling from all that had happened in the last 24 hours, she was able ignore all the new information long enough to force herself to get some sleep. She woke around midday, feeling restored.  

              First on her agenda was arranging to speak with August, in a secure location.  Emma had realized while watching for Hook the night before that she had left Geppetto’s Tisanes without the invitation that August had procured for her.  In addition, she wasn’t entirely confident that August would be willing to hand it over now that he knew that she intended to go after Rumpelstiltskin, Court Sorcerer and rumored Dark One.

              When Emma ventured downstairs, Logan informed her that Starkey and Hook at gone to visit Scarlet at The Rabbit Hole.  

              “Logan, I have a task for you.  Can you deliver this letter?” Emma asked. She held up a letter she had written to August that bore her Assassin’s seal. “It goes to a man named Pinocchio, at a shop called Geppetto’s Tisanes.”

              Logan nodded enthusiastically.  Except for last night’s activity, Emma figured he’d been bored hanging about the inn while she, Hook, and Starkey had been busy planning for the mission.

              “Afterwards, please tell the Captain and Starkey that if I do not return by nightfall to seek me at this address.”  Emma handed Logan a scrap of paper on which she had written the location of the Assassin safe house to which she had invited August so that they might talk in privacy.  The house would also allow her better options for an escape than August’s secure room below his shop, should things go badly.

              Emma smiled to herself, marveling at how much she had grown to trust not only Hook and Starkey, but also many of the men on  _The Jolly Roger’s_  crew.  Per Assassin protocol, she had written her letter to August in one of the Brotherhood’s many codes, but she knew that it was unneeded. - Logan would deliver the letter with seal intact and untampered with.

              On her way out of the inn, Emma made sure to say goodbye to the dozen or so men of Hook’s crew that would be leaving Camelot that evening.  They would leave the city with the farmers after the marketplaces closed and ride along the road that lead back to Hedges Run.  Most of the crew would camp out along the road and join her, Hook, Starkey, and Logan as they transported Rumpelstiltskin to provide backup if they were pursued.  A few would continue on to Hedges Run and alert  _The Jolly Roger_  that they would be returning soon and that the ship would need to be ready for a hasty departure.

              Because it would take some time for her letter to be delivered and August to make his way to the safe house, Emma took some time to visit a store in the marketplace called Noctua’s Nest.  To a regular shopper, it would look like nothing more than a curio shop, but the presence of a dreamcatcher in the window told all spell casters otherwise.

              A bell rang when she entered the shop and the elderly woman behind the counter looked up from where she was sorting a collection of seashells.

              “Afternoon m’lady,” the proprietor said, smiling in a way that reminded Emma of her mother. “How may I assist you?”

              “Do you have any preservation potions for sale? Or the ingredients to make one?” Emma asked.  One thing she intended to acquire tomorrow was the Middlemist flower that Henry had requested.  Though he had said he would be happy even with just a pressing, Emma wanted to give him something more.  A simple preservation potion would prolong the flower’s beauty indefinitely.

              The old woman clucked her tongue. “That depends on what you need to preserve, m’lady, and how large it is.”

              “Only a flower, as a gift,” Emma replied, eyeing the various knickknacks scattered about the shop.  There was a large silver mirror in one corner that made her shiver, remembering the tales her parent’s had told her about how Queen Regina used mirrors to spy on and trick her enemies.

              “Going to find one of Camelot’s lovely Middlemist roses are you?  That’s a fine gift,” the woman said. She shuffled through a selection of small bottles.

              “Here,” she said at last, placing a small bottle full of purple liquid on the counter. “This should do you well.”

              Emma lifted it up to the light of one of the shop’s lamps, watching as the potion began to sparkle in response.  Satisfied, she set it back on the counter.

              “How much?” Emma asked.

              “Four shillings, m’lady.”

              Using information vaguely recalled from an old meeting about trade rights, Emma estimated the equivalent value of the silver reales she carried and handed over two from her purse.  The old woman grinned, which made Emma believe that she had overpaid.  As long as the potion worked, Emma didn’t care.

              As Emma tucked the potion into one of her pockets, her eye was caught by a bottle on one of the shelves behind the counter that contained a dark, familiar fluid.  

              “I don’t supposed you have any squid ink on hand at the moment?” She asked, cautiously.

              The elderly woman frowned.  “What would a nice woman such as yourself want with something like that?”

              Emma shrugged in response.  Her business was her own, after all.

              With a sigh, the woman replied, “I happen have some.” She turned and removed the small bottle that had caught Emma’s eye from its place on the shelf, setting it on the counter between the two of them.

              “Ten shillings an ounce.”

              “And for the entire bottle?”

              The old woman blinked, surprised.  “Fifty shillings, or two and a half pounds.”

              Emma didn’t hesitate as she laid down three silver pieces of eight, which she estimated to be close to the stated price.

              Again, the old woman sighed, but passed the bottle over.            

              When Emma was turning to leave, the proprietor reached over the counter and grabbed Emma’s arm with a surprisingly strong grip.

              “Take these, m’lady,” the old woman said seriously, and pressed a cloth-wrapped bundle into Emma’s hand.  “May they keep you safe.”

              “Ahh, thank you,” Emma said, confused, tucking the bundle into her pocket with her purchases and leaving the shop.

              Emma unwrapped the bundle when she reached the safehouse where she would meet with August.  Inside were two small conch shells strung on leather cords, obviously meant to be worn.  Good luck charms, perhaps.   _But why two?_  she wondered.

              The whistle of the kettle on the fire interrupted her study of the necklaces and Emma went about preparing some of the tea she had found in the house’s kitchen in preparation for August’s arrival.  It wouldn’t be as good as what he served in his shop, but it would do.

              Not long after, August arrived, entering the small house through the back door.  He was dressed casually, but Emma could see the leather of his vambraces at his wrists and the hilt of a dagger hanging from his belt.

              “Emma, you can’t abduct Rumpelstiltskin.  It would throw Arthur’s court into chaos!” August exclaimed without prologue, ignoring the tea she had set out.

              “From what I hear, his presence here has been nothing but a strain on the court.  Surely his absence will actually help restore the Kingdom to some balance,” Emma argued.

              August glared at her.  “That is beside the point, and not for you to decide even if it weren’t.  You can’t just kidnap a member of the royal court!”

              “I can and I will, August.  Though technically, I should kill him.  Or have you forgotten that the Brotherhood wants Robert Gold dead?”

              Given the way August stared at her after that statement, he had.

              “So you have two options.  Either let me abduct Rumpelstiltskin, or follow the Brotherhood’s wishes and kill him yourself.”

              August’s face fell in despair and Emma’s heart broke for him.  She didn’t like giving August an ultimatum, pitting his loyalty to the Brotherhood against his friendship with her, but it was the best card she had to play.

              “Emma, what has happened to you?” August asked at last, quietly.  

              Emma scowled and answered harshly, “I’m a mother, August.  There is nothing I would not do to save my son.”  

\---

              After August left, Emma sprawled across the settee in the parlor, seized a pillow, and screamed her frustrations into it. Her self-indulgent release of anger was interrupted, however, when she heard footsteps coming from the other room. She had pulled and was aiming a throwing knife when she recognized the black leather-clad figure leaning against the doorframe that lead to the kitchen.

              “How long have you been there?” Emma huffed as she collapsed back onto the settee.  

              Hook smirked. “Long enough to know that you are a lioness among men and woe be to all who dare get in your way.”  He pulled his flask from the pocket of his coat and held it out to her, then nudged her feet.  She moved them, making space on the settee for him to sit, and accepted the flask.

\--------------------------------

              The rum was spicy and full of flavor, but stronger than she had anticipated.  It burned its way down her throat and Emma had to keep herself from coughing as she handed the flask back to Hook.

              “Thank you,” she muttered as she rested against the back of the settee.  Annoyed as she was that Hook had apparently ignored the “if I don’t return before nightfall” part of her instructions, she actually found herself pleased to have his company after the stressful meeting with August.

              “So it sounds like your friend won’t be interfering with our plans tomorrow night,” Hook said, and took a sip from his flask.

              Emma hummed her assent, and let out a sharp little laugh.  “I would have left him tied up in the basement if he didn’t agree to my terms.”

              The settee shook from the force of Hook’s laughter. “Lioness, as I said.  You’re absolutely beautiful when you’re angry, did you know?” he said, wiping tears from his eyes.

              Emma felt a blush rise to her cheeks.  Many people had called her beautiful in her life, but few with the passion and sincerity in which Hook did.  Words were too difficult, and she just leaned her head onto his shoulder instead.  Instantly, his arm came up and around, tugging her closer to his side.

              After a moment, Hook spoke quietly. “After I lost my brother, Liam, I was complete mess.  I had one goal in mind and that was revenge on the Templar Order.  Now, the crew of  _The Jewel of the Realm_ , as  _The Jolly Roger_  was originally named, were mostly Templars as well.  And not all of them were in agreement with my taking command of the vessel and turning to piracy.”

              Hook rubbed at the tense muscles of Emma’s shoulders and continued, “I didn’t care. Avenging Liam’s death was all that mattered.  Most of the men who wouldn’t abandon the Order were content to leave the ship and let the rest of us do as we would.  However, a few weren’t.  They were good men.  Men with wives, children, families.  I challenged them all to try to beat me at the sword, to take command of  _The Jolly Roger_  from me.  One by one, they did.  And I killed them.”

              Emma turned her head to stare at Hook, who had a faraway look on his face   “I did horrific things on my quest to destroy those who had betrayed my brother and me,” he admitted.  “Same after I lost Milah.  But you know what?  I can’t bring myself to regret my actions.  Because despite the fact that I may have damned my soul, I rid the world of evil men.”

              “We work in the dark to serve the light,” Emma whispered, reciting the motto of the Assassin Brotherhood.

              “What I guess I’m trying to say, Swan, is that though you may feel like you’re doing all the wrong things, you’re not.  You’re doing exactly what you believe needs to be done,” Hook finished, resting his head up top of hers.

              “Emma,” she whispered in response.

              Hook’s head lifted and Emma could see the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes crinkle as he stared at her.

              “My name is Emma.”

\--------------------------------

\---

              Emma.

              A lovely name, for an even lovelier woman.

              Not just lovely, but also extraordinarily strong and fierce, willing to risk everything to save the life of her child.

              And Killian had to admit, he was falling more than a little in love with her.

              Which was problematic.

              Killian knew that Emma was far out of his reach. Her speech, her mannerisms, and her access to the thousand gold doubloons she had promised him all pointed to her being of noble birth. Furthermore, she was an Assassin, regardless how rocky her relationship with the Brotherhood currently was.  

              And him?  A former Templar turned pirate.  A one-handed pirate, at that.  

              He was unworthy of her.

              And yet…

              Yet, at that moment, Killian wanted nothing more than to be worthy of her.

              Unsure of how to respond, but knowing he needed to show her that he understood how important it was that she had shared her name with him, Killian reached down with his hook and used it to lift her hands to his lips.  “It is a pleasure to meet you Emma.  Captain Killian Jones, at your service.”

              Emma laughed; he marveled at her smile.

              “The pleasure is all mine, Captain Jones,” she replied, her tone light.

              Killian knew that if he leaned over and kissed Emma, she wouldn’t resist: if he so wished, he would be able to spend another wonderful few hours exploring her sumptuous body.

              He didn’t, though.  The companionable, yet still intimate atmosphere somehow meant much more than would mere sex.  So instead, he pulled her closer to his side and shared a tale of one of his run-ins with Captain Edward Kenway.  

              Emma was dozing in his arms when Killian noticed that the sun was beginning to set.

              “Come along, love.  We should be getting back,” Killian said, and gave Emma’s shoulder a nudge.

              She jerked lightly at being woken and an elbow jabbed into his ribs. “Sorry,” she murmured, rubbing her face, then looked out the window and frowned. “Damnit.  Henry requested I bring him one of the region’s Middlemist flowers. I intended to visit one of the local fields this afternoon.”

              “We should still have time,” he said, pulling Emma to her feet.

              “We?”

              Killian stopped, suddenly unsure of himself, but one look at the coy grin on Emma’s face restored his confidence.

              “Please allow me the pleasure of escorting you this evening, oh beautiful Emma,” Killian said with an elaborate bow.

              Emma broke into laughter again, and then looped her arm through his proffered elbow. Together, they set out.

\---

              There was field of Middlemist flowers a short walk from the western edge of the town. Middlemist, Emma was surprised to learn, was a beautiful rose of soft pink.  

              “Local legends says that the first Middlemist flowers were planted by Nimue.  Before, they had grown only in her home village, but it was destroyed by a warlord named Vortigan,” Killian told her as she knelt in the long grass of the field.

              “How do you know that?” Emma asked as she brushed her fingers along the petals of one of the roses, admiring at how soft they were.

              “I like to read,” was all he said, a creak of leather telling Emma that he had also shrugged. Emma remembered the books in Killian’s cabin on  _The Jolly Roger_  and was unsurprised that he had known what seemed like an obscure bit of history.

              Using her knife, Emma cut the stems of a couple of roses.  Once back at the inn, she would decide which of them to preserve for Henry.

              Killian had a small on his face when she stood and walked back toward him.  

              “What?” Emma asked, perplexed.

              “I was just thinking how lucky your lad is to have a mother like you, love,” Killian said, offering her his arm.

              Emma turning her face away, guilt overwhelming her. Killian’s compliments were always so genuine, and it hurt to know that he viewed her so differently than she viewed herself.

              Killian, seeing her reaction, gently turned her face back toward his with his hook.  “I’m serious, Emma.  Few people are willing to go to the lengths you have to save another person.  Even their own children.”  

              Emma closed her eyes, her heart pained at the emotion in Killian’s own eyes.  “It’s my fault he’s cursed,” she whispered.  “If I hadn’t gone on that mission, hadn’t allowed it to go so wrong, Henry wouldn’t be suffering.”

              Killian pulled Emma into his arms.  “It’s Regina’s fault, love, no one else’s,” he murmured into her hair. “And once you save your son, which you will, you can go show that Templar wench what a mistake she made.”

\---

              Emma and Killian returned to the inn just as dinner was about to end.  Killian rushed off to secure them two plates while Emma joined Starkey and Logan at their table. As she sat, Emma noticed Logan pointedly looking at the roses in her hands.  He then flicked his eyes towards Killian, clearly asking whether they were from the Captain.  Emma shook her head and Logan rolled his eyes in response.  

              She wasn’t sure how many of the crew had picked up on the growing closeness between herself and their Captain, but Logan obviously had.  He also apparently found his Captain’s lack of flower-giving amusing.

              “Will your Assassin brethren be causing us any problems?” Starkey asked.  Apparently he was oblivious to the silent conversation she and Logan had just had. Or perhaps he just didn’t care about the provenance of the Middlemist flowers she carried.

              “He shouldn’t, no,” Emma answered.  August had promised not to impede her goal in any way.  With much more reluctance, he had also sworn not to inform the Brotherhood of her location or actions.  However, he had warned her that he would not lie to them when they inevitably came asking questions.

              Killian soon joined the three of them, skillfully balancing two bowls and a plate of bread.  Dinner was a hearty stew, thick with potatoes and other vegetables.  

              Once she had had her fill, Emma thanked the Captain for dinner, bid the men a good night, and returned to her room.  By the light of a lantern, she studied the Middlemist roses she had picked.  All three were beautiful and nearly perfect, so she chose the one that seemed to be the freshest bloom to preserve for Henry.  

              Emma poured half of the potion she had purchased earlier in the day over the flower, feeling the tingle of magic as it was absorbed. Carefully, she bent one of the petals. If she found the petal undamaged in the morning, she would know that the potion had worked.

              Though it was early, Emma opted to turn in. Tomorrow would be a long day, followed by an even longer night and she knew she would need all the rest she could get.

\---

              Emma woke early the next morning with a nervous stomach.  Given the task ahead of her, it would be no surprise for an amateur to have the willies: but she had never been prone to nerves before a mission so it was disquieting.  Her unsettled stomach persisted through breakfast, which she only picked at. Killian gave her a questioning look, which she deliberately ignored.

              Claiming she needed time to pack, Emma returned to her room after breakfast. Lifting the Middlemist flower she had treated the night before from her bedside, she was pleased to see that the petal showed no sign of damage.  Even so, she treated it gently as she packed it away in her travel bag.  

              Eyeing the remaining half of the potion, Emma wondered if it would be enough to preserve a second flower.  Deciding it was worth trying, she selected another of the roses and poured the remaining potion over it.  She packed it away with the other, musing on whether she might find a use for it someday.  

              A knock came on her door around early afternoon. “Come in,” Emma called, assuming it was Killian.

              “So this is the woman who has come to rid us of Rumpelstiltskin,” a high voice said from behind her.  

              Emma pulled a knife and spun toward the unexpected visitor.  It was a woman, wearing a lovely, yet simple dress of dark red.  Her pale blond hair was piled up top her head in a large bun, bound with a red ribbon that matched her dress.  She didn’t appear to be a threat, but Emma wasn’t taking any chances.

              The woman held up her hands, and spoke softly, “Peace, my lady.  I mean you no harm.”

              “Then who are you and why are you here?” Emma inquired sharply, not lowering her raised knife.

              The mysterious woman smiled and held out her hand in greeting.  “I am Anastasia, Will Scarlet’s wife.  And you, my dear, are Princess Emma of Misthaven.”

              Emma lunged, but found herself moving no more than a foot before being frozen by an unseen force.  Magic, not her own, brushed along her skin.  It didn’t hurt, but it was an uncomfortable feeling. The unwelcome visitor entered the room, carefully closing and locking the door behind her.  

              “Assassins, always attacking first,” Anastasia complained as sat on the bed.  She casually waved her hand and Emma felt the spell restricting her movements lift.  She shivered. Suspicious though a woman claiming to be Scarlet’s wife may be, Emma decided against trying to attack her again.

              “How do you know who I am?” Emma asked.  She watched the woman’s face for any hint of a lie when she answered.

              “We met, once, around fifteen years ago or so. You attended some royal function in Briar at the same time as my late husband and I,” Anastasia explained.  

              Emma studied the woman, trying to remember having seen her before. Anastasia was lovely, with high cheekbones and plump lips, and she exuded an air of confidence that few could match.  She must have been close to Scarlet in age, but she looked as young as Emma herself.

              All of it, especially the casual “late husband” remark, teased at Emma’s memories.  Eventually, an image of the woman before her dressed is a long, glittering red dress with a feather collar formed in her mind.  

              “You’re the Red Queen,” Emma breathed, vaguely remembering the night in question.  Briar had thrown an ostentatious party to celebrate Prince Phillip’s tenth birthday. She remembered her parent’s frantic whispers when Lord Stanford and his wife had been announced as guests.  They were known Templars and her parents had been worried what their attendance meant, but Emma had only admired the woman’s grace.  At thirteen, Emma had been all knobby knees and elbows, unsure of where to put her feet when dancing.  The Lord’s wife had exemplified all Emma had wished herself to be.

              “But now you’re married to a thief?  Living a commoner’s life in Camelot?” Emma asked, unbelieving.

              “Hardly a commoner’s life, I assure you,” Anastasia scoffed.  “But what would it matter?  I love Will, regardless of money or station.” The smile on the older woman’s face spoke volumes of her love for the unruly thief.  

              “So, why are you here?” Emma asked as she placed the knife back in its sheath.

              “Will thought you would appreciate another woman’s help to get ready for the ball. He has no idea of your real identity, I assure you,” Anastasia explained.

              Emma nodded, appreciating the thief’s thoughtfulness, if not his apparent tendency to share other people’s sensitive information with his wife.

              Anastasia stood, her eyes sharp on Emma’s admittedly travel-worn clothes.  “You’ll need a bath, first and foremost.  Let’s do this the easy way,” the woman said, amused: and with a wave of her hand, a copper tub full of steaming water appeared in the room.

              Within a few minutes, Emma found herself stripped and bullied into the tub with orders to scrub herself clean.  Meanwhile, Anastasia went to go see whether the gown Emma was to wear that evening had arrived from the tailors.

              The hot water of the bath was soothing and managed to calm the nerves that had been plaguing Emma all day.  After her bath, with her hair and skin thoroughly cleaned, Emma felt more like herself than she had since leaving Misthaven.

              When Anastasia returned, she brought with her a young woman, whom she introduced as the tailor’s apprentice, and a resplendent gown of red silk.

              “We added some pockets, as requested,” the apprentice said as she and Anastasia helped Emma into the dress.  It fit well, and once the apprentice left to go ensure that Killian had no issues with his new clothing, Emma tucked various knives, darts, and the vial of squid ink into the new pockets.

              When Emma asked Anastasia to assist with securing one of her vambraces to her left leg, the woman laughed.  “How creative.  What about the other?” Anastasia asked as she watched Emma test the fit.

              “Hook will be wearing it,” Emma replied. Anastasia nodded thoughtfully.  

              The other woman then pointed to the pile of chains Emma had left piled on the bed. “And those?”

              Emma sighed.  “Too clunky and loud to bring with us, I’m afraid.”

              “That shouldn’t be a problem.  I’ll cast a silencing spell on them and we can secure them underneath your dress,” Anastasia said as she moved to do just that.

              “Ana, no!” Emma shouted as she grabbed at Anastasia’s hand.

              The other woman froze, staring at Emma like she’d lost her mind.  “Sorry.  The chains were made to prevent the wearer from using magic.  I’m not sure how they will react to having magic cast upon them,” Emma explained.

              Anastasia eyed the chains with distaste.  “Wretched things.  No wonder they were making me uncomfortable.  They don’t bother you?”

              Emma shrugged in response.  She didn’t want to tell Anastasia that people who used dark magic tended to react more strongly to the chains than others.  

              “Is it because your magic is currently bound?” Anastasia continued.

              Emma blinked in surprise.  “You can tell?”

              Anastasia hummed.   “You have quite distinctive magic, Princess.  Even as a girl, you glowed with it.  That was how I recognized you earlier,” she explained as she ran her fingers along Emma’s palm. “Right now, it is… muted.  Dimmer than before.”

              Frowning, Emma thought about the implications of what she had just learned.  Being able to see magic was a rare skill, but one often gained as a sorcerer increased their power. And there was no sorcerer more powerful than the Dark One.

              “Do you think Rumpelstiltskin will be able to see my magic as well?” she asked.

              Anastasia shrugged. “Perhaps.  I’d be more worried about him recognizing your pirate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Art by the amazing @cocohook38.  
> Second Art by the equally amazing @utopiozphere


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. She made the action in this chapter make more sense and flow. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way.

_\------------------------------------------------------------_

                Killian paced the length of the inn’s common room, fretting over all the small details of the task ahead that could go wrong.  He and Emma had never come up with a suitable plan to transport the ink-forged chains into the castle, so they would have to rely solely on the liquid squid ink Emma had purchased, and their own wits.

                “Stop pulling at your collar,” Starkey chided him, and Killian irritably dropped his hand.  The jacket Starkey had found and had tailored to fit him was well-made, and cut similarly to his greatcoat, but was stiff and more formal than the soft leather to which Killian was accustomed.  In a way it also reminded him of the Templar uniform he had once worn, which only added to his discomfort.               

                Small comfort that Starkey and Logan looked just an uncomfortable in their own unusual outfits.  Both were dressed in simple but fine livery, as they would be acting as carriage driver and footman to Killian and Emma that evening.  As such, they would need to blend in with the other nobility’s servants; well dressed, but unremarkable.

                “Is everything …” Killian began, until his attention was drawn to movement on the stairs.

                Emma stood at the top, and for a moment, Killian forgot all about the task ahead of them.  He knew he was gaping as he watched her descend the staircase, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from her beauty.  The red dress Anastasia had lent them was of the latest fashion in Camelot, with wide skirts, a low neckline, and long, tight sleeves.  Most of Emma’s hair was styled into a bun and decorated with a jeweled silver band, though some blonde strands remained loose and framing her face.

                Killian’s eyes dropped to Emma’s golden rose necklace, which rested in the hollow of her throat.  His heart caught in his chest when he saw that there were only six petals remaining, one less than the seven it had had before they put into Silverbrooke.  Had one more fallen because of the magic Emma had used to heal the wound he had gotten in his drunken brawl?

                “Captain, you clean up quite well,” Emma told him as she approached and Killian rubbed his hand across his freshly trimmed beard.  Starkey had been unusually enthusiastic when he’d clipped and styled Killian’s hair.

                “This won’t be enough to keep Robert Gold from tearing out your heart the instant he spots you,” Anastasia said forcefully, folding her arms across her chest.

                Killian felt the blood run from his face.  Not once had he considered the fact that the crocodile could recognize him, which would put the entire plan, and Emma, in danger.

                “Now, stand still.” Anastasia waved her hand and Killian felt the telltale tingle of magic move across his skin.  “This spell should keep anyone meaning you ill from seeing you too clearly.  Just don’t draw too much attention to yourself, and it should suffice to keep Robert Gold from spotting you before you’re ready.”

                “Thank you Ana, truly,” Killian said, lifting one of her hands to his lips to place a soft kiss on her knuckles.                

                “No, Killian, thank you,” Anastasia said as she stepped back and stood next to her husband.  She had a soft smile on her face and Will a lopsided grin on his.  An odd couple, Killian had always thought, but he was glad to see that they had finally found happiness together.   

                “Shall we?” Killian offered Emma his arm. Once they were outside the inn, he rather unnecessarily assisted her in climbing up and into the carriage. 

                “Anastasia was helpful.  I’m glad Scarlet thought to bring her along,” Killian remarked. There was a jolt as the carriage began to move down the streets toward the castle.

                “Very,” Emma said, holding up a small beaded bag in her hands and shaking it meaningfully. “Inside are the chains.”

                Killian blinked.  He held out his hand and Emma handed over the bag.  It felt light, but when he loosed the strings holding it shut, the chains were indeed inside.

                “How?” he muttered in amazement.

                “A simple extending charm, she said, but I have my doubts.  I’ve read about enchanted items such as this.  I suspect she’s had it since she was married to the Red King of the Templars.”

                Killian was impressed that Anastasia had shared her history with Emma, but also that the once-cagey Assassin was taking it with such aplomb.

                The carriage jostled as it passed over a pit in the road and Killian reached out to steady himself. Emma’s brows furrowed, and she asked, sounding perplexed, “Is that… Is that a hand?”

                Killian laughed and waved at Emma with the fake hand that resided where his hook usually was, which earned him a smile. “I figured my hook would draw too much attention,” he explained.

                “You still have it with you, though, right?” Emma asked, sounding nervous.  Killian nodded as he patted the jacket pocket where his hook currently was, absurdly pleased.

                The carriage slowed and Killian glanced out the window.  Unsurprisingly, there were dozens of carriages on the road that lead to the castle.  Killian stretched his legs out and made himself as comfortable as possible.  Emma raised a brow and Killian waved his fake hand toward the window.  She signed when she spotted the congestion on the road.

                Killian poked her leg with the toe of his boot.  “We’ll get there, lass.  Why don’t you tell me more about your son, to pass the time?  Or I could regale you with a story of one of my many adventures?”

                Emma rolled her eyes but relaxed back against the wall of the wall of the carriage. 

                “Alright, Captain, entertain me.”

\---

                When the carriage drew to a stop outside the gates of Camelot’s castle, Emma took a moment to mentally prepare herself for the task ahead.  Killian’s story of rescuing a princess who’d been trapped in tower guarded by a dragon had served to keep her nervousness at bay for the long carriage ride, but all of it had returned when they had arrived at the castle gates.  She pushed back all of the emotions that were still turning her stomach and forced herself to concentrate only on the fact that her target, Rumpelstiltskin, was in the castle.

                “Breathe, lass,” Killian murmured in her ear as he helped her descend the steps of the carriage.

                Emma nodded, and together they approached the guards at the castle gate.  They presented their invitation and were allowed inside to join the line of guests awaiting entrance into the ballroom.

                “Princess Leia and Prince Charles,” the herald announced to the room, when it was finally Emma and Killian’s turn to enter the ball.

\----------------------------------

                Protocol dictated that they present themselves to the hosts, so Emma gently steered Killian toward the dais where the King and his intended bride sat on two ornate thrones.  While they waited for their turn to offer congratulations, Emma studied the couple.  She had always heard that Arthur was a handsome man and she couldn’t disagree with that assessment.  He wore simple but fine clothes, which, combined with his broad shoulders, made him look more like a soldier than a King.  The sword at his side, which she suspected to be Excalibur from the ornate hilt, did nothing to allay that impression.

                As genial as Arthur looked, Emma couldn’t help feel a bit of unease as she and Killian drew closer.  There was a shadow in his eyes that didn’t seem to belong, a darkness that put Emma’s teeth on edge.

                In contrast, the King’s fiancée almost radiated with energy.  Gwendolyn was a simple beauty, with a kind and welcoming face.  Her long brown hair flowed freely and she wore a crown of flowers atop her head.  Emma couldn’t help but smile at genuine enthusiasm with which the future Queen greeted each nobleman and woman who had come to wish her and Arthur well, even though it must have been getting repetitive and boring.  

                At last, she and Killian reached the head of the line. Emma took a deep breath and stepped forward with a smile. “Our congratulations on your engagement, Your Majesty.  I wish you and Lady Gwendolyn the happiest and more fruitful of marriages,” Emma said as she curtsied before the royal couple, Killian bowing at her side.

                “Thank you - Princess Leia, was it?” Gwendolyn inquired.  At Emma’s nod, she continued, “From where do you hail?”

                “The Southern Isles, my lady,” Emma lied.  She hoped that Gwendolyn hadn’t yet been educated on the members of royal courts so far from her own. 

                The young woman’s brow wrinkled, but she nodded.  “Do enjoy the ball, Princess Leia, Prince Charles.”

                Dismissed, Emma and Killian made their way across the ballroom.  She hadn’t spotted the court sorcerer, and from the frown on Killian’s face, he hadn’t had any luck either.  Emma had expected Rumpelstiltskin to be with the King. 

                “What if he isn’t here?” Killian whispered. He grabbed a glass of wine from one of the many servant’s moving about with refreshments and handed it to her.

                Emma accepted the wine and took a sip, then shrugged. “The festivities don’t officially begin until Arthur and Gwendolyn are done greeting the guests.  If he hasn’t appeared by the time the dancing begins, I say we make our way toward the tower,” she told him firmly. 

                It took a while for the King and Gwendolyn to accept the well-wishes of the hundred or so people attending the ball.  But at last, the royal couple climbed the great staircase of the ballroom; the room fell silent in anticipation.   

                “Thank you all for joining us this evening,” Arthur announced.  “It is with great pleasure that I formally declare my intent to wed Lady Gwendolyn, daughter of Count Redford.  This coming spring, Camelot will once again have a Queen!”  

                The assembled crowd cheered.  Emma clapped politely, but narrowly assessed the group of men who stood off to the side of the King and his fiancé.  Camelot’s highest nobles, she figured.  One man, though, stood further off to the side than the rest.  While the others wore lavish formal jackets of velvet, this man’s looked like it made of leather.  Which, as the Princess of Misthaven knew, was not something a nobleman would wear to a royal event. 

                Additionally, he was also the only person in the room who did not appear happy with the King’s coming nuptials.  That fit with what August had told her about Rumpelstiltskin being an outspoken critic of the King’s choice of bride.

                Emma tugged on Killian’s arm, drawing his attention from the crowd and jerked her chin forward, toward the stairs.  “Man on the far right,” she said softly and watched as Killian squinted toward where she had indicated. 

                The muscles of the arm she held tightened.  “Aye, love.  That’s the crocodile,” Killian growled. 

                Emma kept a firm grip on Killian’s arm and carefully navigated them closer to the bottom of the stairs so she could get a better look at the man she had come so far to abduct.

                The first thing Emma noted was that there appeared to be something wrong with his skin.  It was scaly, with a greenish tingle.  The coat he wore was indeed leather, and had what appeared to be snakeskin embellishments.  He almost _looks_ like a crocodile, Emma thought incredulously.

                As if he had felt her gaze, the man’s eyes snapped toward hers, and Emma suddenly found herself under scrutiny.  Killian, seeing it, reacted quickly and turned his body to block her from Rumpelstiltskin’s view.

                “Let’s have a dance, love,” he said as he guided her onto the dance floor.  The musicians were playing a simple waltz, something Emma could dance in her sleep.  She was surprised, however, at how adept Killian was.  He effortlessly led her around the room, always subtly ensuring that one of them had Rumpelstiltskin in their sights. 

                “How long do you think until he leaves?” Killian asked when he drew her close at the end of a twirl.

                “Soon, I suspect.  Or once Arthur is suitably distracted to not notice his absence,” Emma replied.  The first dance of the ball was nearly over and after that, Rumpelstiltskin could leave without risk of offending the King.

                After two more dances, Killian drew Emma’s attention to Rumpelstiltskin.  The annoyed-looking man had originally been shadowing the King, but he’d begun to drift further and further away.  At last, he ducked one of the alcoves of the room, plainly finished with the festivities and about to make his way back to his tower.

                “Time to go,” Emma whispered.  In response, Killian slipped them from the throng of dancers and guided them past the alcove into which Rumpelstiltskin had disappeared.  As Emma had suspected, there was a door hidden in the nook.  There was also a guard, so Emma and Killian strolled right past without stopping. 

                “Courtyard?” Killian suggested and Emma nodded.  The two of them had planned four possible exit routes from the ballroom based on Scarlet’s map, each of which could take them on different routes to Merlin’s tower.

                The courtyard was more of a pleasure garden than a vegetable garden, filled with tall hedges and trees that had yet to lose their leaves, instead of edible plants to feed the castle’s inhabitants.  A few other couples had sought privacy among the greenery, so Emma and Killian drew no attention when they headed toward a far corner of the courtyard.  There was a door there which would lead them behind the ballroom and toward the hallway Rumpelstiltskin had used for his escape route.

                “One guard,” Emma whispered.  She dropped her arm from Killian’s and he silently made his way behind one of the many hedges.

                “Charles, where are you?” Emma called, her voice pitched high enough for the guard to hear.  He turned toward her, hand on his sword and a wary expression on his face.  Emma ignored him and continued to call for the missing Charles. 

                “May I be of assistance, my lady?” he guard finally asked.  He obviously didn’t consider her to be a threat, for he dropped his hand from his sword as he approached. 

                “I’m afraid I seem to have lost my husband,” Emma said sweetly, with a bright smile.  “He’s gone to get me a refreshment, but is just taking so long!  I don’t suppose you’ve seen a tall gentleman with dark hair?”

                “I have not, my lady.  Why don’t I take you back to the ballroom?  Perhaps your husband has been delayed by another guest,” the kindly guard suggested. 

                When he moved to offer Emma his arm in escort, Killian emerged from the behind the hedge he had been hiding behind.  Quiet as a mouse, he sneaked up and quickly wrapped his arm around the throat of the distracted guard. 

                The potion on the dart Killian jabbed into the guard’s neck worked quickly, but Emma would have sworn that the guard took twice the normal amount of time to lose consciousness before he dropped limp into Killian’s arms.  Together, they moved the guard behind one of the hedges.  They tied his hands and feet and gagged him with some rope Emma had hidden under her gown.  He would wake up in ten or so minutes, but bound as he was, would be unable to raise any alarm until someone found him.

                Killian held out a set of lock picks to Emma.  “Would you like to do the honors?” he asked with a sly grin.

                She accepted the picks with a prim curtsy. Within a minute, she was pushing the door open, and she and Killian made their way into the narrow servant’s passage.  Thankfully, they didn’t meet up with any of the servants attending on the party as they made their way down the hall.

                When they made it to the door at the end, Emma picked the lock, and then flattened herself against the wall behind the door.  She yanked it open: Killian swiftly reached out and grabbed the guard that stood beyond, pulling him into the hallway with them, and Emma quickly closed the door again.  

                The guard struggled, of course, and Emma heard a crack when Killian’s fist connected with the man’s nose.  While the man was dazed from the blow, Emma jabbed a sleeping potion-tipped dart into his neck.  They bound him in the same manner as they had the other guard and Emma made sure he was resting on his side so that the blood streaming from his nose didn’t choke him. 

                Once they reached the main part of the castle, Emma and Killian moved as quickly as they dared, their feet silent on the thick carpet.  They were able to avoid the notice of a pair of guards on patrol in one corridor, but ran out of luck when they reached the next.  There were two sets of guards, one standing guard watching the hall Emma and Killian were currently in, and the other patrolling the corridor behind.  There would be no getting around them unseen.

                Hidden behind a statue out of the guard’s sight line, Emma studied the path of the patrolling set and looked for the best time to strike.  She decided that they had a minute, no more, to take out the stationary guards once the other two were far enough away and before they turned back around.  Emma only hoped that the patrolling guards would come looking for their missing comrades instead of immediately heading off to sound the alarm.

                “Can you dart them from here?” Killian whispered to her. 

                “One, yes, but not both,” she replied, shaking her head.

                “Aim for the man on the left.  I’ll take out the other.”  Emma nodded, and Killian slipped silently across the hall, making his way quietly toward the pair of guards.  Emma readied her blowgun and once Killian was in position, she sent a sleeping dart into the neck of her target.

                “What?” the guard murmured, and pulled the dart from his neck.  He swayed for a moment, and then crumpled to the floor.  The other guard’s head whipped around, an incredulous look on his face: but the instant the man’s back was turned, Killian reached out and dragged him backwards. 

                There was no struggle this time, though; Killian quickly activated the hidden blade he still wore and drove the knife into the man’s throat.  Emma ignored the resultant gore as she ran to the guard she had poisoned; with an effort, she dragged him off to the side and tucked him behind a decorative suit of armor. 

                Emma quickly undid straps of the hidden blade still strapped to her leg and transferred it her right forearm.  The first kill had been made.  There would be no more time for nonlethal measures.

                “George, Oliver, where did you two head off too?” one of the guards down the hall called.

                “If they’ve snuck away to get a drink, they better bring some back for us,” Emma heard the other say as the two of them drew closer.  Emma slipped behind the corner next to Killian and waited patiently.  When the two guards came to the end of the hall, she and Killian struck in unison.  Emma’s blade met little resistance when she stabbed it through the man’s temple and into his brain.  He jerked, once, and then dropped to the floor after she retracted her weapon. 

                Killian was not so lucky as to take out his target in one simple and nearly bloodless move.  His initial attack at the man’s throat had gone wide and sliced across the carotid artery.  Blood spray now coated the sleeve of his coat and the guard gurgled away his last breaths at the pirate’s feet.  Killian himself had a bashful look on his face, embarrassed at the mess he had made.

                “I think it would be best if I stuck to my hook from here on,” Killian said as he removed his fake hand and replaced it with the shiny metal attachment.  He also held out his right arm so that Emma could remove the vambrace concealed by his coat.  Once she had both of her Assassin’s blades in place, the two of them stowed the guard’s bodies in a closet and continued their mission.

                Five more guards died by the time Emma and Killian made it to Merlin’s Tower.  Emma felt remorse for their deaths, but refused to let her mind linger on them until her mission was complete.  There was a single door at the base of the tower and Emma quickly discerned that it was magically sealed.  Not unexpected, given who resided within.

                Killian stood guard while Emma placed her hand flat on the wood and allowed her own magic to flow forth.  Sparks crackled and the wood warmed beneath her hand as her light magic reacted to the dark magic warding the door.  When the ward finally broke, the door burst into flames.  Emma had stepped back just in time to avoid being burned. 

                “Well, what do we have here?” a high-pitched voice said from behind Emma. 

                She whirled, her heart in her throat, to see a familiar figure standing between her and Killian.  Rumpelstiltskin had found them before they could find him.

\---

                When the tower door had gone up in flames, Killian had been more than a little bit startled at the unexpected blaze.  Not as shocked, however, as he was the next instant when Rumpelstiltskin appeared before him in a cloud of dark red smoke.  He had tried to warn Emma, but found himself unable to move or speak. 

                “Well, what do we have here?” the crocodile crooned.  “A couple of thieves taking advantage of the King’s hospitality?” 

                Killian could see Emma struggle to reply, but she appeared to be equally frozen in place. Rumpelstiltskin circled the pair of them. _Probably contemplating the best way to kill us_ , Killian thought furiously. 

                The sorcerer traced his fingers down Emma’s arm, and Killian growled, low in his throat.  To his relief, Rumpelstiltskin turned toward him with a frown.  Good: Emma had a greater chance of breaking out of the spell they were under than he did.  All he had to do was distract the crocodile to give her the time.  

                “That is quite a glamour,” Rumpelstiltskin said, his face inches from Killian’s own, eyes narrowed.  “But let’s see who you really are.” 

                He waved his hand and Killian felt the man’s magic across his skin, a deeply unpleasant sensation.  Unlike Emma and Ana’s magic, which produced a pleasant tingle, Rumpelstiltskin’s was more akin to in the crawling legs of spiders.

                “You,” Rumpelstiltskin growled, and whipped up a hand; Killian felt fingers like iron close around his throat.  “What are you doing here?”

                The spell had weakened for a moment, and his voice suddenly roared up through his throat. “I’m here to avenge Milah, you murderous bastard!” Killian spat back. 

                The hand around his throat tightened and Killian choked, unable to breathe. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Emma had managed to move, that one hand was buried in the red beaded bag that held the ink-forged chains.  _Just a bit longer and she’ll free_ , he thought faintly.

                “Not today, pirate,” the sorcerer snarled.

                Killian gasped for air, trembling with the effort of trying to fight, to free his arms.  It was no use: the sorcerer’s grip was too tight, his spell too strong.  He risked a quick glance at Emma and almost smiled when he saw that she had the chains in hand and had crept forward until she was almost within striking distance.

                Just as the edges of his vision started to darken, Killian struggled with all his might and lashed out with his hook, aiming for the sorcerer’s face.  Rumpelstiltskin easily dodged the attack: but his free hand swung backwards, and right into Emma’s grip. 

                The hand around Killian’s throat released, and he dropped to the ground, gasping for breath, coughing. 

                “What trickery is this?” Rumpelstiltskin bellowed, and pulled at the manacle locked around his wrist.

                “Your magic will be of no use to you now,” Emma informed the irate sorcerer with triumph, as she pulled on the free end of the chain she still held.  Rumpelstiltskin stumbled forward and with a quick swipe, Emma latched the remaining manacle around his other wrist.    

                “What do you want?” Rumpelstiltskin said from behind clenched teeth. 

                “You, actually,” Emma replied coldly.

                The creature’s tone took on a wheedling aspect, his eyes sharp on her. “Why?” he demanded.  “Who’s put you up to this?  Was it Regina?  The noisome bitch never could stand to have any competition.”

                Killian snorted at the idea that he would be willingly working for the Templars.  The noise irritated his tender throat and sent him into a coughing fit, though, and Rumpelstiltskin smiled wickedly at his obvious discomfort.

                Emma tugged on the chain that connected the two manacles, and pulled the bound sorcerer forward.  “You’ll find out soon enough, once we are will away from here,” she announced.

                Emma had a white-knuckled grip on their prisoner’s chains as they made their way back into the castle.  Apart from confronting a powerful spell caster and kidnapping him, this part of their mission posed the greatest risk.  They would need to traverse nearly the entire length of the castle in order to get to their planned exit by the gardens…  all while transporting an unwilling and irate court sorcerer.  While he may not be able to access his magic, Killian didn’t for an instant think that Rumpelstiltskin was by any means harmless.

                Their first obstacle was a trio of guards patrolling a long hallway.  Since one of them needed to keep ahold of Rumpelstiltskin, lest he try to run off, one of them would need to take out all three guards on their own.

                Killian had been about to volunteer when Emma shoved Rumpelstiltskin’s chains into his hand and rushed forward as soon as the guard’s backs were turned.  Wide-eyed, he watched as Emma gracefully wielded her two assassin’s blades.  She wrapped her right arm around the neck of one guard, pulling him down to her level before, with a jerk of her wrist, she sliced her blade across his throat.  At the same time, she imbedded her other blade into the side of the neck of the other guard.  Before the last guard even had a chance to react to the death of his comrades, Emma had him face down on the stone floor, her blade inserted in the small space where the spine connected to the base of the skull. 

                It had taken Emma less than 10 seconds to incapacitate all three guards and as Killian watched her wipe the blood off her blades, all he could think about was how magnificent she had been while doing so.

                “Not the Templars, then,” Killian heard Rumpelstiltskin mutter as he dragged the sorcerer past the dead guards, careful to avoid the pools of blood, and past a courtyard with a single large tree. “But what could the Assassin Brotherhood want with me?” Killian clenched his jaw in annoyance.

                At the end of the hallway, Emma held a single finger up to her lips before ducking around the corner.  A thud followed, then a second shortly after.  When Emma returned, she beckoned Killian forward with a wave.  Two guards lay dead in the hall off to his left.

                “Where has that shiny bastard run off to?  I told him he was to attend to the end of the festivities, in case those backstabbing advisors of mine tried anything!” The angry voice of King Arthur came from down the hall. 

                Killian yanked on Rumpelstiltskin’s chain and hid the two of them in the recess of a nearby window.  He pressed his hand over the sorcerer’s mouth. 

                “I’m sorry, your Majesty, but one of the guards saw Rumpelstiltskin heading toward his tower,” said a smarmy voice in answer to the King.

                “And yet, you tell me he isn’t in the tower.  So where’s he gone?” Arthur bellowed.

                “No one knows, Majesty,” the other person answered.

                “Fine.  I’ll just have to summon him,” the King said, and with a flash of panic, Killian felt Rumpelstiltskin grin in response.

                “Dark One, I summon thee!”

\---     

     Emma watched in shock as Rumpelstiltskin disappeared in a puff of smoke from his position next to Killian and, an instant later, reappeared in front of King Arthur, who was holding a long, wavy dagger in his hand.

                “Rumpelstiltskin, why have you disobeyed me?” Arthur demanded. She grabbed for her blowgun and loaded with her last sleeping dart.  She cursed herself for using the others on the first few guards.

                “My apologies, your Majesty,” the crocodile said, rather sarcastically.  “I’m afraid I found myself unable to join in the festivities due to my inconvenient kidnapping.” Rumpelstiltskin lifted his bound arms and gave his chains a shake.

                 After taking a deep breath, Emma stepped from her hiding spot and aimed her blowgun at the King’s face, the only bit of skin not covered in thick clothing.

                She knew the moment she blew that the dart wouldn’t make it: she was too far away and the King’s face too small of a target at that distance.  When nothing happened except the continued exchange of voices, she exchanged a quick glance with Killian, whose eyes were fixed on her. She nodded, and together they rushed forward.

                “You expect me to believe that you were kidnapped?  You, the Dark One?” Arthur exclaimed.

                “Your Majesty!” the King’s servant screamed, as Emma and Killian bore down on the three of them.

                Arthur drew his sword: Emma noted that it had the same wavy design as the dagger he had held up when he had summoned Rumpelstiltskin. 

                She reached the still-screaming servant first.  She quickly sliced both of her blades across his throat to give him a quick death.  She hated to kill him, but she also couldn’t risk him running for the guards.

                Rumpelstiltskin ran past her and Emma gave chase, trusting Killian to handle King Arthur without killing him.  The sorcerer was fast for someone who probably relied on magic for most travel, and Emma was hindered by the skirts of her dress.  Nevertheless, she was able to catch up when Rumpelstiltskin turned a corner, and lost his footing.  Emma wrapped her arms around his midsection and pulled him to the ground.

                They wrestled until Emma got a grip around Rumpelstiltskin’s head and bashed it against the stone floor.  It dazed the sorcerer enough that she was able to grab the chains binding his hands.

                “So you really are the Dark One,” Emma muttered as she dragged Rumpelstiltskin back towards where she had left Killian and the King.  Killian had found a sword somewhere and had engaged the King in a duel.

                Normally, she’d have sat back in enjoyment and let the fight play out. Killian was a skilled swordsman and watching him fight was a treat. However, the sword he faced was Excalibur, and a wound from that sword would never heal.  She loaded another sleeping dart and shot it at the King, who collapsed to the ground mid-swing, ending the fight.

                “Oi!” Killian objected.

                “No time.  Help me with him,” Emma replied with a nod toward the bound sorcerer.

                Rumpelstiltskin had regained most of his wits and struggled as Killian pulled the sorcerer up from the floor.  “Walk, crocodile,” the pirate hissed.

                Emma briefly knelt down by Arthur’s side and was relieved to find that she hadn’t accidentally killed the King of Camelot.  The dagger the King had used earlier was protruding from an interior pocket of his jacket.  Vaguely remembering the lore she had read about Dark Ones, Emma concluded that this was probably the dagger the old tomes had referred to as the only way to control or kill a Dark One.  She grabbed it and tucked it into her pocket.  It would come in handy if Rumpelstiltskin managed to escape.

                With Rumpelstiltskin begrudgingly walking between the two of them, they managed to reach the servant area that lead toward the castle’s garden without encountering any more guards.  Emma and Killian were careful to avoid the notice of the servants who were rushing about, carrying trays of drinks and food back and forth from the ballroom.

                Emma was pleased to note that night had fallen when they emerged from the castle.  Even though it would make it more difficult for Starkey to direct the carriage down the forest path, the dark would also hinder any pursuers.

 _Almost there_ , Emma told herself as she knelt and worked on picking the lock of the small door in the outer wall.  When it clicked, Killian quickly ushered Rumpelstiltskin through and into the carriage waiting beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for this chapter by @cocohook38


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way.

_\------------------------------------------------------------_

          Killian barely had himself settled in the passenger compartment of the carriage before Starkey had it hurtling away from castle. Emma collapsed next to him, both of them facing their hard-won prisoner. They smiled at each other, wordlessly congratulating one another on a job well done.

          Killian narrowed his eyes at Emma, trying to see if she had sustained any wounds. Both of them had blood spattered across them and that made it hard to gauge whether any of it belonged to Emma. Killian reached out his hand, rubbed his thumb gently over her cheek to wipe away a spot of blood.

          “I’m fine, Hook,” Emma told him, and she settled herself more comfortably on the padded seat of the carriage. While she had no wounds, he could see the dark circles developing under her eyes.

          Their guest had been observing this interaction with cold eyes. “Well, this is cozy,” Rumpelstiltskin said lazily. “So nice to see you’ve moved on after Milah’s death.” 

          “You don’t deserve to speak her name, you vile crocodile,” Killian spat back. Emma’s hand gripped his arm tight, and he fought against the urge to bury his hook in the sorcerer’s throat. 

          Rumpelstiltskin leaned forward, his voice cruel. “Do you love this whore as much as you did my wife? I hope so. It will make it all the more pleasurable when I make you watch as I rip out her heart and crush it.” 

          Killian pushed himself forward and grabbed the lapels of Rumpelstiltskin’s coat, pulling him forward until he was nose to nose with his tormenter. He brought his hook up and pressed its point against the man’s neck.

          “One more word,” Killian growled. “One more word and we will see just how immortal you really are.”

          Emma grasped Killian’s shoulder and pulled him back onto the carriage’s seat next to her. He watched as she pulled a dagger from one of her dresses pockets and held it forward.

          “Rumpelstiltskin, I command you to be silent,” she said forcefully. The sorcerer huffed but, thankfully, ceased speaking. 

          For the next couple of hours, Killian remained tense. At one point, Emma grabbed his hand and rubbed small circles on the palm in an attempt to offer some comfort. However, the cramped confines of the carriage became too much and he banged on the roof to signal Starkey to stop. 

          Killian jumped from the carriage and headless of the dark, set off into the woods, ignoring Emma’s call of “Hook!” from behind him.

          Once he was alone, Killian lashed out and buried his hook into the wood of the nearest tree. The world would be a much better place without Robert Gold in it, yet he was bound by his honor not to kill the bloody man. Killian pulled his fist back and slammed it into the tree. 

          “Does that help?” 

          Startled, Killian turned. His hook, still imbedded in the tree, pulled him up short. He yanked it free. Emma stood a couple of yards back. Her hands were on her hips as she raised a brow at him.  

          “No,” Killian admitted. 

          Emma walked forward and grabbed his hand. His knuckles were bleeding; the skin ripped open by the coarse bark of the tree.  

          Killian leaned forward and rested his forehead on the top of Emma’s head. “Why, love, is that abomination the only person who can save your son?” he asked quietly.

          Emma sighed, but said nothing. “Lie to me, if you must,” he begged. “Just please tell me something. Anything. Because if I am to have that man on my ship for the next month, I’m going to need a reminder as to why he is better off alive than dead.”

          He didn’t really expect an answer. Emma Swan was a woman full of secrets, and though she had shared some of those secrets with him already, he suspected that he hadn’t yet earned enough of her trust to demand more. 

          To his astonishment, she muttered softly against his chest, “He’s Henry’s grandfather.”

          At first, Killian wasn’t sure he had heard Emma right. Henry’s grandfather? What did he have to do with Rumpelstiltskin?

          Then his mind finally wrapped around Emma’s words; Killian pulled back and stared at her, his mouth agape.

          “His grandfather. Rumpelstiltskin is Henry’s grandfather,” Killian repeated blankly.

          Emma’s teeth were worrying at her bottom lip, evidently nervous about his reaction to her reveal.

          Grandfather.

          So that meant Henry’s father was…

          “Baelfire,” Killian sighed.

          Robert Gold’s son. 

          Milah’s son.

          “Because the curse on Henry is a blood curse, the spell to counter it requires the blood of both of his parents. Baelfire isn’t available, so my only option is his father,” Emma explained as Killian tried to wrap his mind around the information.

          “Baelfire… what happened to him?” Killian inquired, remembering the tales Milah had told him of her adventurous son.

          “Gone. Not dead, just… gone.” Emma shifted from foot to foot and Killian let the topic drop. She had told him enough of her secrets for one night. 

          “If all you need is his blood, love, I’ll be happy to get it for you,” Killian offered, raising his hook.

          Emma smiled sadly at his suggestion. “It needs to be willingly given, I’m afraid.”

           _Of course it does_ , Killian thought bitterly. Magic and its stupid restrictions. He brought his hand up and cupped Emma’s face, turning it up toward his. 

          “Thank you, Emma, for telling me,” he said gently.

          “No, Killian, thank you. I wouldn’t have managed this on my own,” Emma replied. She leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss. When she pulled back, she grabbed his hook and guided him back to where the carriage waited. 

          “Come on, Captain. Let’s not worry Starkey any more than we already have.”

\---

          Instead of climbing back into the carriage, Killian opted to join Starkey on the driver’s bench, so Logan joined Emma in the carriage. He offered to keep an eye on Rumpelstiltskin while she got some sleep and she gratefully accepted.  

          Hesitantly, she pulled the curvy dagger from her satchel and offered it to him, handle-first. “Do not let him get ahold of this,” she said sternly. The young man nodded earnestly.

          Emma woke with a jerk a few hours later when the carriage came to another stop. She looked at Logan. The young man had his hand on the hilt of his sword and a cautious eye on the compartment’s windows. 

          “All clear, Captain,” Emma heard one of Killian’s crewmembers call, though she couldn’t immediately identify who. They must have met up with some of the men who had ridden on ahead, she concluded, and allowed herself to relax.

          “Good work, Javier,” Killian said. The carriage tilted and a moment later Killian appeared at the window.

          “Care to change, love? We need to give the horses a rest,” Killian said as he offered Emma his hand to assist her exit from the carriage. It was early dawn and there was just enough light to see by. Killian lifted his arm to show the saddlebags dangling from his hook. She’d completely forgotten that the carriage carried a change of clothes for her and Killian.

          “I imagine that you are keen to be out of that uncomfortable frippery. Though of course you cut quite a figure,” Killian said with a wink as he handed her the saddlebag. 

          “Gods be thanked,” Emma groaned. Accustomed as she was to corsets and fine gowns, they were uncomfortable to wear at the best of times. Ready to wear more something more suitable to long travel, she quickly made her way into the woods until she found a thicket suitable to use as a changing area. However, after a few minutes, Emma cursed her lack of forethought when she found herself unable to undo the intricate lacing of the gown. She sighed. It was a beautiful gown, so it seemed a waste to just snap the laces with her knife.

          There was a rustle. “Need some help, lass?” Killian called to her, from the other side of a tree. 

          “It’s not polite to spy on a lady while she’s changing,” Emma chided him.

          “But yes, I do.”

          She saw that Killian had already changed out of his own attire when he made his way toward her and was once again dressed almost head to toe in his normal black leather. How the man didn’t die from overheating, she didn’t know. 

          Killian deftly undid the gown’s lacing and once undone, it fell to the forest floor. Emma took a little pleasure in kicking it away and into the underbrush. Killian snickered at her immature antics as he started on the bindings of the corset. The tip of his hook tickled her skin when he help her remove the torturous contraption, and Emma shivered.

          Killian noticed, of course, and quickly did it again. It elicited the same response, and Emma felt his smile when he placed a kiss on the side of her neck.

          “Now is not the time, Captain,” Emma said gently. They had a task to complete. 

          “Oh, I know,” Killian whispered in her ear. “I just wanted to let you know, love, that when this is over, well, that’s when the real fun begins.”

          He disappeared in a whish of soft leather. Emma quickly donned the Assassin’s outfit she had packed away a few days before. Somehow, even after being laundered, it still carried the salty smell of the sea. She found herself pressing her nose to the fabric, glad that they would soon be returning to the relative safety of The  _Jolly Roger_  and the open sea. 

          When she emerged from the thicket of trees, she found Killian loitering not far away, his sword drawn. Protecting her while she had been vulnerable, she realized. At her nod of thanks, they headed back toward the carriage. 

          They found Starkey on the ground. His head was bleeding and Emma spotted more blood on the carriage wheel.

          Killian kneeled and pressed his finger’s against Starkey’s throat. “He’s still alive,” Killian said with relief.

          Logan was not so lucky. He was still in the carriage’s passenger compartment, his eyes open but clouded, his neck tilted at an unnatural angle. She checked his pockets. The dagger she had given to him before her nap was gone.

          “Rumpelstiltskin is gone,” Emma told Killian tiredly. 

          “Can you track him?” the pirate asked, his voice tight. His hand was clenched into a fist. 

          Even though Rumpelstiltskin had recovered his dagger, he was still without his magic because of the chains. He would have escaped on foot. Emma glanced about and spotted a couple of broken branches on a small shrub on the edge of the road. Emma followed the path Rumpelstiltskin had left in his wake, thankful that the sorcerer apparently didn’t have enough experience traveling in the woods to cover his tracks. 

          She came upon him caught in a thick patch of wild blackberry bushes where he was cursing the plants for snagging his trousers. She snuck up on him with ease and pressed the tip of her blade against the back of his neck. Could the Dark One survive the severing of his spine from his head? From the way Rumpelstiltskin tensed, Emma wasn’t sure if he knew the answer.

          “I don’t intend to kill you, you know,” Emma informed him. 

          Rumpelstiltskin laughed. “Is that so, dearie? What other purpose could an Assassin have for abducting me?”

          Emma took a deep breath, then caved. “I have need of your assistance in a magical matter,” she admitted. She didn’t dare tell him any more, lest it give him leverage over her. 

          “Well you could have just asked,” the sorcerer replied mockingly, fluttering his hands. 

          Emma huffed as she removed her blade from the back of Rumpelstiltskin’s neck. She could only imagine how she would have worded a letter outlining the situation her son was in.  

          Emma seized Rumpelstiltskin’s shoulder to turn him toward her. “In return for your assistance, I will tell you what I know of the location of your son.”

\---  
             

          Once Killian had confirmed that Starkey would survive his wound and had made him comfortable, he carefully removed Logan’s body from the carriage. He closed the young man’s eyes and laid him alongside the road. He was contemplating whether he would have enough time to build a cairn for his fallen crewmate, when Emma returned with Rumpelstiltskin in tow.

          A flash of red-hot rage poured through him. Killian marched toward the sorcerer, his long strides eating up the distance that separated them, and swung his fist into the wretch’s face. Though it sent a wave of pain through is hand, the punch connected with a pleasurable crack and was well worth it.

          Killian expected Emma to scold him for his actions. However, all she did was roll her eyes and shove the bleeding sorcerer into the carriage. There came another cry of pain, which Killian assumed was Starkey taking his own small revenge on Rumpelstiltskin. He was about to climb into the driver’s seat of the carriage when he saw Emma pause at the sight of Logan’s body. He approached and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him.

          “We can’t just leave him here,” Emma said, her voice thick with tears. 

          “We don’t have time, love,” Killian responded. He tried to guide her back to the carriage with his arm, but she resisted. Instead, she knelt and laid her hand at the ground by Logan’s feet. Killian watched in awe as the ground rippled and Logan’s body began to sink. In less than a minute, he was gone and a wreath of lilies marked where he had been. 

          Killian pulled Emma close and held her in his arms. “Thank you, love,” he whispered into her hair. He knew how precious her magic was to her, and was touched that she would use some to grant one of his crew members a proper resting place. One Emma was secure in the carriage with Starkey and Rumpelstiltskin, Killian took up the reins and guided the carriage back onto the road.

 ----------------------------------------------  
\---  
         

          A few hours past dawn, they once again met up with Javier. The Wyatt brothers joined them shortly after and with them were fresh horses to draw the carriage for the next leg of the journey. After the horses were switched out, the group had a quick breakfast of bread and cheese. During that time, Emma replaced the bandage on Starkey’s head. The scalp wound was mostly superficial, despite how much it had bled. 

          When they set off again, Emma kept Starkey engaged in conversations as best she could to prevent either of them from becoming too absorbed in their thoughts. Starkey, she figured, would feel just as responsible, if not more so, for Logan’s death than Killian did. Warry of their other passenger, they avoided any personal topics and discussed recent politics. Rumpelstiltskin grumbled but thankfully stayed silent. 

          When they changed horses again around midday, Emma tried to convince Killian to allow one of the other men to drive the carriage so that he might get some rest, but he refused. 

          “Killian, you haven’t slept since yesterday morning!” Emma argued as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

          “It doesn’t matter, Swan,” Killian snapped. “Starkey’s injured and none of the others know how to drive a carriage.” 

          Emma blinked and stepped back, unused to Killian losing his temper with her. At last she recovered herself, and ordered, “Just don’t fall asleep and drive us off the road.” Despite her best efforts, her words came out cold. He hadn’t called her ‘Swan’ since she’d shared her real name with him a couple days before. 

          Emma climbed back into the passenger compartment of the carriage and sat, arms crossed, across from a smug-looking Rumpelstiltskin. 

          “Has he always been this stubborn?” Emma grumbled at Starkey.

          “Since he was a lad, I’m afraid,” the quartermaster replied, with a grin.

          Rumpelstiltskin snorted and Starkey’s eyes narrowed in response. 

          “Don’t forget depraved, reckless, and a tendency to run away with other men’s wives. Those are some of your Captain’s finer qualities,” Rumpelstiltskin said snidely. 

          Emma gawked at Rumpelstiltskin in shock. “Milah was your wife?” she finally stuttered. 

          The sorcerer laughed, and the unpleasant sound grated in Emma’s ears. “Did he never tell you?” he asked. “Stole her away in the dead of night. From me and from our son, Baelfire.”

          “Milah left on her own, Gold, and you know it,” Starkey said with a glare. “She was tired of being married to a sniveling coward.”

          Rumpelstiltskin jerked forward to attack the other man, but Emma quickly kicked her foot out, hitting him in the chest. She causally fingered the hilt of the dagger she held, and he settled back into his seat with a look that would terrify most men. 

          “If you harm another one of Hook’s men, I will not be responsible for the consequences,” Emma told him.

          “But you need me, dearie,” retorted Rumpelstiltskin.

          “I need you alive, yes,” Emma acquiesced. “But there are a number of ways a man can be hurt without causing death. So I recommend you watch your tongue before someone rips it out.”

  
\---  
         

          They arrived at the docks of Hedges Run just before nightfall; Emma practically leapt from the carriage. Even on his best behavior for the remainder of the journey, Rumpelstiltskin was a tiresome companion.  

          In less than an hour, the carriage and horses had been sold to a merchant, and Killian had arranged for the proceeds to be sent to Scarlet in thanks for his assistance. Thanks to the crew’s efforts, the _Jolly Roger_  was ready to set sail shortly afterwards, since they had been informed of their Captain’s impending return.

          “Glad to have you back, Captain,” Theo said cheerfully, when Killian took the wheel and steered his ship out to open sea. Killian thanked the lad; after a week inland, he was glad to be home. 

          Hours later, he was studying the stars and remembering the night he had shown Emma the Cygnus constellation, when the lady herself appeared from below deck. 

          He waited until she was standing beside him to speak. “I trust our guest is secure in the brig?” Killian asked carefully.

          “Yes, and Starkey has arranged a guard of two men to be with him at all times,” Emma replied.

          Killian saw that she had a shawl wrapped around herself to guard against the night’s cold, and longed to draw her into his arms, against the warmth of his body. But the stiffness of her posture and the distance she was keeping from him caused him to he suspect that his embrace would be unwelcome. It hurt more than he wanted to admit to see her uncomfortable in his presence. 

          “Let me apologize, lass, for the way I barked at you earlier today,” he said gently. “I was angry with myself after Logan’s death, since it was my fault. You, however, did not deserve to be on the receiving end of that and I apologize.” 

          He adjusted The Jolly Roger’s course a degree further south, and heard Emma’s sigh. After a moment of silence, he felt her warm body against his. She grasped his hand and pulled it from the wheel of the helm.

          “I accept your apology, Killian, under one condition,” Emma murmured as she wove her fingers between his own. “And that condition is that you get some rest.” 

          Killian glanced down at their entwined hands. Hers were so small and felt so delicate, even though he knew that they were as capable as his of great violence. He stared at the scabs that had formed over the broken skin of his knuckles. Everything that had happened over the last day and a half caught up with him, and he suddenly felt wearier than he had in many years.

          “Aye, love, I can live with that,” Killian conceded. “Let me wake Theo so he may take the helm and I promise I’ll seek my bed.”

          “I’m right here, Captain.” Theo’s voice came from behind and Killian turned to find the other man already holding out a hand to take the wheel. With a nod of thanks, Killian allowed himself to be led to his cabin by Emma. 

          “My bed is a mite small, love, so I understand if you wish to return to your own cabin,” Killian offered, cringing slightly. 

          But Emma appeared to have been serious in granting him forgiveness, for she didn’t hesitate. She dropped the shawl she had been wearing and quickly undressed until she wore nothing but a long tunic. Killian watched, dumbfounded, as she climbed onto the bed. 

          “This is perfect,” Emma said as she slid between the blankets, with a sly smile.

          Killian chuckled. He should have known that Emma would personally ensure that he followed her instructions. He stripped quickly. Anxious though he was to join the beautiful woman waiting for him, he still took the time to make sure his coat, boots, and other clothes were placed in their proper places before climbing into bed himself in only his underdrawers. She watched him, still wearing that sly smile, plainly amused.

          “Goodnight, Killian,” Emma muttered as she curled herself along his side and settled her head on his chest.

          “Goodnight, love,” he whispered in return, already feeling the pull of sleep. With Emma’s sweet smelling hair gently drifting against his face, he allowed himself to succumb.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the amazing Cocohook38
> 
> Please excuse any formatting issues with this chapter; Microsoft Word has decided to crash, repeatedly, and I am having issues copy/pasting from my documents.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. Last, but not least, this fic wouldn’t exist without the encouragement from @icecubelotr44 every step of the way. This chapter is for her!

_\------------------------------------------------------------_

 

          Killian told Emma that the journey north to Misthaven would likely take between four to five weeks, depending on the severity of the storms they encountered. Much to Emma’s chagrin, they suffered almost two storms a week. Some small, but others made Emma fear for the lives of all on board. The  _Jolly Roger_  was just passing the port of Alexandria five weeks after leaving Camelot.

          But besides the storms and the increasingly bland food, the weeks at sea were almost pleasant. Having become more familiar with the ship and the crew during the trip south, Emma spent almost all of her time on deck. She busied herself with any task she could find, even those that took her aloft into the rigging of the sails.

          When Emma wasn’t learning the how to sail, she took her turn standing guard over Rumpelstiltskin. Starkey had deemed it prudent to keep the sorcerer under guard at all times. He may be chained and without magic but Logan’s death had proved that he was far from harmless. 

          Everyone, save Killian, spent time in the brig watching over him. Unsurprisingly, those were the times Emma enjoyed the least. Rumpelstiltskin needled her for information almost incessantly, and when she refused to give him any, he told her in great detail what he planned to do once he was free of his bonds.

          It was after enduring the evil goblin’s taunts that Emma found herself most thankful for Killian and his caring nature. No matter how upset, downhearted, or all-out infuriated she was after a few hours of being verbally assaulted by her prisoner, Killian always knew how to help afterwards. He’d be there with a cup of rum-spiked tea to sooth her nerves or an offer to spar so she could work out her frustrations on something productive. Or, he’d just hold her as she cried, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back, just as he had after she’d killed Jenny.

          Killian was a man unlike any other, Emma had decided. He wasn’t perfect, of course: he had a bit of a temper and an infuriating tendency to hold himself responsible for anything that went wrong. However, where so many men in her past had been intimidated by her brusque nature, Killian seemed almost drawn to it. He’d never once suggested that her behavior was inappropriate for a woman or something to be ashamed of. Instead, he helped her calm her own doubts about the path she was on when she’d begun to waver. 

          After their first night together once back aboard The  _Jolly Roger_ , Emma had been loath to return to the solitude of her own cabin. It seemed so stark and lifeless compared to the cluttered confines of the Captain’s cabin. So when night fell their second day after leaving Hedge’s Run, she’d gone to Killian’s cabin instead, even though she knew he’d be at the helm for a few more hours. She awoke the next morning to Killian curled against her back and no comments about her choice of sleeping quarters. 

          Killian was a remarkable man.

          And Emma…

          Emma was lying to him.

          Almost every morning, knowing they drew closer to Misthaven, Emma woke tangled in a mad whirlpool of emotions. Despite how open and honest Killian had been with her for the past weeks, Emma was still hiding one very important piece of information from him; that she wasn’t just from Misthaven, as she had implied, but was in fact the realm’s Princess and Heir Apparent. 

          He’d shared so much with her. He was open about himself, his history, and had even storied of Milah, so that she might relay to Henry tales of his fearsome and strong-willed grandmother. While she had told stories of her own, they were always carefully edited to hide any information about her special heritage. Emma was hiding her true self from him, and every morning when she woke, it was to the face of a man who had done and shared so much with her.

          After they passed the Port of Alexandria, Emma knew that she was running out of time to tell Killian her identity before she risked him finding out in another way. It would only take them two more days to arrive in Misthaven, where they would make port at the small coastal town of Blanchard. The town was only a few hours away by horseback from the lake where the Royal Castle was located, and it was quite likely she would be recognized. 

          Emma could only imagine how infuriated Killian would be to discover that his patron (and the woman he had been bedding) was the local Princess, simply because some careless dockhand referred to her as “Your Highness.” After all, if the situation were reversed, she would probably be wild with rage. With that in mind, Emma gave herself until the end of the day after they passed Alexandria to tell Killian the truth about her identity.

          That evening, she waited for Killian in his cabin. She had two plates of the evening’s dinner and a bottle of fine rum which she’d won off Tristan in a game of cards a couple of nights before. They both normally ate with the crew, but Emma wanted privacy for this conversation–something, she had learned, that was hard to come by on a ship. 

          “What’s this, love?” Killian asked, frowning as he descended the ladder that connected his cabin to the quarterdeck. 

          Emma opened her mouth to reply, but stopped, unable to find the right words. Everything she could think to say would immediately put him on his guard, which she didn’t want to do. 

          “I thought we could eat alone,” Emma eventually stuttered out. Killian raised a brow and tilted his head just a bit: he plainly didn’t believe her. Still, he was ever a gentleman and helped her into her own seat before taking the one across the table.

          “What has Tristan prepared for us this evening?” Killian asked as he lifted the second plate Emma had placed over the dishes in an attempt to keep them moderately warm. 

          “The last of the shark that Javier speared a couple of days ago, I believe,” Emma answered. She hadn’t known when she’d come aboard that sailors often supplemented their rations by fishing and hunting while at sea. She’d been unprepared the first time the crew had brought up a net full of fish during their voyage south and absolutely shocked when they’d caught a shark a few days later. Now, she was beyond thankful for the fresh meat, different as it was.

          Killian took a bite of the shark fillet and grimaced. “It’s a good thing we’ll be making port soon, because even Tristan’s talents are being stretched thin,” he commented wryly.

          Emma almost choked on her own bite at his offhand comment. “It’s a pity Misthaven doesn’t have many ports,” Killian continued before Emma had her nerves under control. “I’ve heard wonderful tales of the realm but rarely visit it. Is it true there is a lake that can cure all ills?”

          Emma blinked, taken off guard. “Yes, Lake Nostos,” she said, before quickly correcting herself. “The lake is gone now, though. The siren that guarded it was killed, and it dried up.”

          “A pity. I would have loved to see it,” Killian said with a frown.

          “That lake is actually the reason I exist,” Emma said casually, toying with her fork. Killian’s eyebrows rose in shock and Emma couldn’t prevent herself from laughing at his expression.

          “Years ago, my mother was tricked into drinking a curse that prevented her from having children,” she explained. “Not long after, my grandmother, my father’s mother, was poisoned. My father went to Lake Nostos so he could save her, but found it dried up. All that remained was a small amount of water in a seashell.” 

          Emma paused for a sip of water. Killian’s eyes were wide, which was the same look that Henry always had when her parent’s told him stories of their adventures. 

           Thirst quenched, Emma continued, “Ruth, my grandmother, knew of my mother’s curse. She tricked her son into thinking she’d drank the water, but when she failed to heal, said it must not have been enough. She stated that before she died, she wanted to see her son happily married to his true love, my mother. So there, on the shores of the lake, a family friend who was a knight performed the marriage between my parents. At my grandmother’s insistence, the knight poured the water from the lake into the marriage chalice. Thus, the curse on my mother was lifted and I was born around a year later.”

          Killian gawked at her. “Your parents have led very interesting lives it seems,” he remarked. 

          Emma chuckled. Then she took a deep breath, steeling herself. “That’s one of the tamer tales, I assure you. But speaking of my parents, there is something…”

          She jumped as a loud and furious boom resounded through the cabin. Killian immediately jumped from his chair and hastened above deck. Emma followed, cursing under her breath.

          “Theo, what in the seven hells was that?” Killian demanded of his navigator.          

          “Cannon fire, sir. We only just spotted the sail,” Theo answered as he yielded the helm to his Captain.

          “Hands to stations!” Emma heard Starkey yelling as she watched the crew scramble from below, their dinners abandoned.

          “Javier, what colors are they flying?”

          The crewman hastened to the portside and pulled out his spyglass to assess the ship that had attacked them. His fingers were shaking when he lowered it and looked to his captain.

          “Crimson, sir,” he answered, eyes round. “Just crimson.”

—

          Killian swore. Crimson meant the ship was likely a fellow pirate and that they intended to give no quarter.

          “Starkey, do you recognize the ship? I can think of only a few Captains who’d be out this late in the season,” he called, trying to remember who among the brethren had cause to want him dead. Mercifully, it was short list, since most didn’t know of his Templar past. He’d gone by the name Hook to all but a select few since returning from Neverland a few years ago. 

          Killian watched as Starkey climbed to the crow’s nest with bated breath. When his quartermaster descended and approached with a dark look across his face, Killian knew he wouldn’t like the news.

          “It’s the  _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ , sir.”

          Blackbeard.

          Of all the pirates that sailed the seas, Edward Teach was one of the worst. While most pirates preferred to simply disable a ship before pillaging, Blackbeard would shower his targets with heavy cannon fire until they were barely able to stay afloat. Afterwards, he would descend with his crew of cutthroats, who would murder almost everyone aboard. Only a few would be left alive, to tell the tale of the terrifying Captain Blackbeard if they ever made it back to shore. 

          His ship, the  _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ , was a beast of a ship. She was a frigate that Blackbeard had captured from Vand over a decade ago. Over the years, he’d outfitted her with iron plate to better protect her hull and had a large ram installed on her bow. Last Killian had heard, she carried at least forty guns. 

          Forty, to The Jolly Roger’s fourteen. 

          “Starkey, get a long boat prepped. Javier, fetch the crocodile,” Killian instructed, and turned to Emma, who had been hovering at his shoulder. “Love, grab whatever you need from your cabin.”

          “What?” Emma stared at him.

          Killian gestured for Theo to take the helm again. “The ship that has attacked is the  _Queen Anne’s Revenge_. Her Captain is a ruthless, bastard of a man,” he explained, ushering Emma toward the gangplank. “He’s also a Templar, though few know it.”       

          Emma froze, her cheeks going pale.  “If he’s here, that means the Order knows you have Rumpelstiltskin and they’ve sent him to stop you,” Killian continued. “My ship’s a marvel, but she can’t outfight the  _Queen Anne’s Revenge_. She’s already too close for us to out run. So you need to get off this ship.” 

          Killian grabbed Emma by the elbow and pulled her below decks. “I’ll send Starkey and Javier with you. There is an island a few miles east of here that you should be able to make it to before nightfall.”

          “Killian, I can’t just leave,” Emma protested.

          “You can and you will, love. Blackbeard means to destroy this ship and everyone on it. If I trusted that crocodile, I’d say use him and his black magic to get yourself home. But I don’t. He will betray you, somehow. So please, only do that as a last resort.”

          Killian guided Emma into his cabin and started to grab what possessions of hers that had made their way to his cabin from hers. Emma grabbed his arm, stopping him.

          “Killian, I’m not leaving,” she said quietly. But her voice began to rise as she continued, until she was shouting. “I’m not just going to abandon you. I’m the reason he is after this ship and I can’t just run away and let you pay the price for my actions!”

          “You don’t have a choice!” Killian said tightly. “If you stay, you will die right along with the rest of us. And while I draw breath, I will not let that happen.” 

          Emma’s eyes filled with tears and Killian pulled her into his arms.  “I love you, Emma,” he whispered against her hair. “And if I am fated to die this day, I at least want to do it knowing I’ve done everything I could to ensure your survival.

—

          I love you.

          That was all Emma heard after Killian crushed her against his chest.

          I love you.

          Three small, simple words. Yet they held so much meaning.

          The  _Jolly Roger_  rocked violently and Emma could hear the boom of the cannons on the deck above. But for a moment, all she cared about was the man who held her in his arms. A man who loved her. Who, at the moment, was resolved to face death so that she might live.

          I love you.

          The words stuck in Emma’s throat as she unburied herself from Killian’s chest. So instead, she grabbed his hair, pulled his head down to hers, and gave him a kiss that she hoped conveyed the words she was unable to say.

          _I love you, Killian Jones._

          When she pulled back, she saw that he, too, had tears in his eyes. “You need to go, Emma,” Killian said hoarsely. 

          Emma could only nod. With the bag that contained the preserved flowers for Henry and a few other items thrown over her shoulder, she followed Killian back above deck.

          The  _Queen Anne’s Revenge_  had drawn closer in the few minutes they had been below. She was a beautiful ship, with three tall masts filled with billowing sails. Beautiful, and deadly. 

          There was another loud boom as the crew fired on the advancing ship. She couldn’t tell if any had made contact, but if so, they did nothing to stop its approach. A minute later, the  _Revenge_  returned fire, and Emma flinched as she heard the cannon balls tear into The Jolly Roger’s hull. She’d grown to love this ship and her Captain, and the thought of it at the bottom of the sea made her cry even harder. 

          The longboat was nearly ready. Starkey and Javier had it on the starboard side of the ship, so their departure would be hidden by the bulk of The  _Jolly Roger_. Emma knew that if they wanted to survive, they would need to row hard and fast to be out of the  _Revenge’s_  sight by the time she was finished with The  _Jolly Roger_.

          Just as Emma was contemplating the seemingly impossible task ahead, another boom sounded from the other ship. “Mortar fire!” someone screamed, and suddenly Killian’s body crashed into hers. 

          Death rained from the sky.

          Emma watched in horror as multiple steel balls ripped through the wooden deck of The  _Jolly Roger_. She heard screaming to her right. When she turned her head, she saw Javier lying upon the deck, one of his legs suddenly ending mid-thigh. 

          Killian let her up and Emma rushed to Javier’s side. She ripped off the arm of her shirt and quickly tied it around the stump of his leg. She grabbed a sturdy bit of wood debris and used it to tighten the tourniquet. It was of no use. The damage was too severe for a simple tourniquet. The artery high on the inner thigh had been severed and all Emma could do was hold Javier’s hand while he bled to death.

          Once he was gone, Emma stood up and searched for Killian. She found him kneeling next to Starkey’s body.

          The quartermaster had was still alive, but barely. There was a large fragment of wood embedded in his chest and bloody froth was already forming on his lips. Emma dropped to his side and grabbed the hand Killian wasn’t already holding.

          “Starkey, I am so, so sorry,” Emma muttered as she placed a kiss the older man’s knuckles.

          With surprising strength, Starkey grabbed the neck of her top and pulled her close to his head. “Take care of him, Princess,” he whispered in her ear.

          Startled, Emma pulled back. How had he known?

          But she would never find out. With one last bout of strength, Starkey reached up and laid his hand on Killian’s cheek. “You’re a good man, Killian Jones,” he said to his Captain. “Your brother would be proud.”

 

_\--------------------_ _\--------------------_

—

          The longboat had been destroyed. One of the projectiles from the mortar had torn a hole right through its hull.

          “Emma, how many petals do you have left?” Killian asked, and reached for her necklace with shaking fingers.

          There were five. Emma shook her head before he could even ask if that was enough. “Transportation defies the laws of nature. Technically all magic does, but transportation more than most. I haven’t dared risk it since binding Henry to my magic,” she explained.

          Killian glanced about, searching for Rumpelstiltskin. He found the sorcerer casually leaning against the rail, an amused look on his face.

          “Crocodile, can you get yourself and Swan to Misthaven?” Killian demanded.

          “Not like this, dearie,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, holding up the chains that bound his hands and magic.

          Killian was pulling the key that would unlock the chains from his pocket when he was suddenly thrown backwards. His body hit hard against one of the cannons. His side flared in pain when he tried to stand. In pain and dazed from his fall, he wondered what the loud cracks sounding across the deck could be. He looked up, and saw in horror that the mainmast had begun to topple toward the deck. 

          Theo yelled, “Captain! The mast!” 

          Panic surged through his veins as he realized the mainmast of his ship was bearing directly down on him. Ropes strained and broke. The sails tore. Nothing could stop its descent. 

          “NO!” Killian heard Emma scream as he tried to scramble out of the way, his hook scrabbling uselessly against the deck. 

          It was no use: the mast was falling too fast. “NO!” Emma screamed again.

          Suddenly, there was a bright flash and the mast froze where it was. Killian looked toward Emma. She stood on the quarterdeck with her arms outstretched, beautiful white magic flowing from her hands. The men around her were gaping, frozen at the sight.

          Killian forced himself to move despite the pain in his ribs, limping toward her. Emma didn’t simply let the mast fall. He stared in awe as the mast slowly rose back to its original height. When the broken ends were in alignment, the wood began to twist, and slowly, the mast repaired itself. 

          Turning back to Emma, Killian watched as she moved to the port side of the ship, all her attention focused razor-sharp on the  _Queen Anne’s Revenge_. Blackbeard’s ship was still coming at them. 

          Emma raised her arms again: but this time, the magic that flowed out of her hands was not the soft white he had seen before. This magic cracked with energy and raised the hairs on his arms. 

          It shot like a bolt of lightning toward the  _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ , where it tore through the hull of the armored ship. Everywhere it touched, the wood ignited. Soon, the entire ship was engulfed in flames. 

          When the fire reached the powder magazine, the resulting explosion blew a large hole in the side of the hull. After that, the ship began to fill with water and within minutes, the once great  _Queen Anne’s Revenge_  was on her way to Davy Jones’s locker, along with her Captain and all hands that had been aboard.

—

          When only a foaming patch of flotsam and wild sea remained to give evidence of the once-great ship, Killian turned his head back to where he had last seen Emma. His heart jumped in his chest when he saw that she no longer stood on the quarterdeck, but lay upon it. 

          Killian wrapped his arm around his ribs and hauled himself up the stairs to the quarterdeck. He collapsed at Emma’s side and checked to see if she was still breathing. Feeling a tiny quaff of air against his hand, he sighed in relief. He carefully inspected her for any wounds. 

          When his hand skimmed across her sides, Emma’s arm snapped out. Her hand smacked into Killian’s chest; he cursed, wincing. 

          But there was a light tug on his collar. Emma’s eyes were open but unfocused and she was muttering something, her fingers locked onto his coat. Killian leaned closer to try to hear what she was saying. ”Blockade,” she breathed. “Around… Mist… haven.”

          _Shit._

          If there was a blockade around Misthaven, it could only be the Templars trying to prevent Emma from making it back with Rumpelstiltskin. It seemed extreme for the Templar’s naval contacts to be mobilized just to prevent a woman from breaking the curse on her son, but Regina had never been entirely rational when it came to her revenge. 

          Sucking in a breath and trying to ignore his injured ribs, Killian gathered Emma into his arms. He carried her down into his cabin and laid her on his bed, tucking the covers tenderly around her. He would send Victor to take a look at her as soon as the surgeon was done treating the injured members of the crew. 

          Six men, including Javier and Starkey, had been killed in the  _Queen Anne’s Revenge’s_  attack. Two others were severely injured and Victor wasn’t sure they would survive the night. One man had lost an arm, and another a leg. Killian thanked the gods that he had any crewmen left after what they had all just endured. 

          Killian found Starkey’s body amongst the chaos of the deck and kneeled next to his stalwart quartermaster. Smee joined him and together, the two of them wrapped Starkey in the canvas of a hammock in preparation for burial.

          “I’ll see you on the other side, my friend,” Killian said as he watched Starkey and the five other men who had perished tipped over the side of The Jolly Roger. 

          Afterwards, he located Victor. “I’d like you to take a look at Swan as soon as you are able,” he commanded the surgeon. 

          Victor nodded and followed him to the Captain’s cabin. Killian paced while Victor poked and prodded at Emma. After a bit, he pronounced Emma physically fine. 

          “I imagine she is simply exhausted. That was quite a feat of magic we witnessed,” Victor informed him. “If she doesn’t wake, you’ll probably want to consult with your prisoner. He’ll be your best bet if this is something magic-related.”

          Killian delicately lowered himself into his chair. Talking to Rumpelstiltskin, who had been returned to the brig, was last on the list of things he wanted to do.

          “Let me take a look at your ribs, Captain,” Victor said with a nod at his midsection.

          With a reluctant sigh, Killian carefully shrugged off his jacket and Victor helped him remove his vest and shirt. The left side of his chest had begun to turn pink, blue, and purple. The surgeon carefully poked at each rib. Killian tried not to flinch, but failed. 

          “Only one rib seems to be broken. It’ll take a while to heal, but you should be fine. Try to take a deep breathe every hour or so, even if it hurts,” Victor instructed him. 

          Killian raised his brows. “You’re not going to bind them?”

          Victor snorted and pushed his glasses higher onto his nose. “A foolish practice. That’ll only increase the risk of pneumonia or your lung collapsing.”

          Normally Killian would have been fascinated to learn a new fact about the human body. But he just nodded, too tired to care.

          He stood slowly and grabbed all the charts he had of the area around Misthaven, then unrolled them across his desk. The country only had three decent ports, and the one they had intended to use, Blanchard, was the largest of them. The other two were small, but Killian didn’t certainly think that the Templars would leave them unprotected just because of their size. 

          “We need to go to Arandelle.”

          Emma’s voice, little more than a whisper, caused Killian to jump. He hastened to her side. 

          “Arandelle?” he said helplessly. “Love, they’ll have all of us dancing a gallows’ jig as soon as we make port.”

          But Emma shook her head. “Elsa is a friend,” she murmured.

          Killian blinked, not sure that he heard her correctly. She’d just named the reigning monarch of the country as ‘Elsa,’ as if they were old friends. “You’re friends with the Queen of Arandelle?” he asked in disbelief. 

          Emma nodded and her eyes fluttered shut. He called her name softly, but she didn’t answer. She was asleep again, and Killian would be getting no more of an explanation.

          He sighed again. Arandelle. The crew was going to love that. 

          Killian went in search of Theo to inform him of their new destination. Arandelle was one of the last places a pirate wanted to go. Killian hadn’t been jesting when he told Emma that they’d all be dead if they went there. The northern kingdom had no tolerance for pirates. Their trials were swift and their punishments even quicker.

          The navigator’s eyes went wide. “Captain, have you lost your wits?” Theo asked, aghast. 

          “It’s not my first choice either,” Killian explained, resigned. “But I have reason to believe that if we continue toward Misthaven, we will be met with more resistance.” He gestured to the chaos that surrounded them. “And we won’t survive another battle, lad.”

          Theo glanced about. Emma may have repaired the mast with her magic, but there was plenty of other damage that remained. Numerous sails were already in the process of being repaired or replaced by the crew, but they’d lost two cannons, their only longboat, and his recently-repaired ship would need another visit to a master shipwright. 

          “Arandelle it is,” Theo said with a sigh. “May the gods have mercy on our souls.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MS Word is still being a bastard, so please let me know if there are any formatting issues with this chapter. Also, #SorryNotSorry


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way.
> 
> The artwork in this chapter, by the amazing @cocohook38, is SEXUALLY EXPLICIT.

_\------------------------------_    _\------------------------------_

                Killian stood on the bow of the _Jolly Roger_  with his spyglass pointed at Arandelle.  There were a few ships docked in harbor.  One of which, Killian was dejected to see, was the navy’s powerful flagship, the _Narwhal._  

                “How do we approach, Captain, without being blown to bits before we even make it to port?” Joshua Wyatt asked.  The crew had elected the elder of the Wyatt brothers as quartermaster a few nights ago.  So far, Killian had no qualms with their choice.  Joshua had proven himself to be a levelheaded man during the seasons he and his brother had sailed on the _Jolly Roger_. 

                “We run up the white flag,” Killian informed him.  Joshua made a face in response and Killian chuckled.  The white flag meant surrender.  Raising it went against everything that made Killian a pirate.   It would hopefully guarantee them passage into port, but afterwards, they would be at the mercy of the local authorities. 

                Killian went to his cabin.  Emma had been recovering slowly from her magical exhaustion and still remained abed.  Her periods of consciousness had been lengthening, though, and Killian was thrilled to see that she was awake when he returned.

                “We’re about to sail into Arandelle, love.  Do you feel up to joining us on deck?” Killian asked.  He knew it was vital that Emma be visible when they arrived in port if they wanted to avoid being arrested on sight. 

                Emma nodded and Killian helped her from his bed.  He wrapped his arm around her waist to take most of her weight and guided her from the cabin to the quarterdeck.  Together, they stood and watched as Arandelle drew closer.

                One they were spotted, yhe _Narwhal_  was heading their way with a swiftness that impressed Killian. 

                “How close of a friend are you to the Queen?” Killian asked.  His stomach was turning in knots as the large naval ship headed right toward them. 

                Emma leaned heavily against him before she spoke. “There is one last thing I haven’t told you, Killian.  And I’m so sorry I haven’t done so before this.  I’ve just been scared by how you might react.”

                Killian frowned, gathered Emma into his arms, and lifted her face to his. “I love you, Emma.  Whatever you have to tell me, that won’t change,” Killian told her.  

                He and Emma hadn’t spoken about Killian’s confession of love in the few days since the  _Queen Anne’s Revenge’s_  attack.  He had no idea whether Emma returned his feelings or not, but it wasn’t going to stop him from ensuring her of his deep attachment.

                “My name is Emma, as I told you.  However, that isn’t all of it.  Officially, I am Emma, Duchess of Swan, and Princess of Misthaven.”

                If Killian hadn’t already suspected that Emma was likely nobility by her manner, her revelation would have shocked him to his core.  Instead, he was only moderately surprised.

                “Princess, huh?” Killian muttered.  At Emma’s nervous expression, he calmly continued, “Lass, you sure are full of surprises.”

                “That’s it?” Emma stared at him, eyes wide.

                Killian grasped one of Emma’s hands and brought it to his lips, where he pressed a kiss on her knuckles.  “Once we are safe in Arandelle, I’ll be happy to show you all the proper reverence due to a lady of your station.  Please, grant this old pirate clemency until then.”

                Emma laughed at his melodramatic words.  “Clemency granted, Captain.”

                Together, they watched as the _Narwhal_  pulled alongside the _Jolly Roger_.  An imposing man in the uniform of Arandelle’s navy approached the rail.

                “This is Admiral Morten of the _Narwhal._   I wish to speak to the Captain of this vessel,” the Admiral yelled across the gap between the ships. 

                Killian stepped forward, Emma pulled securely against his side.

                “Admiral, I am Captain Hook of ihe _Jolly Roger_.  We seek safe passage into Arandelle,” Killian replied.  Even from a distance, Killian could see the distrustful look on the Admiral’s face. 

                “I know who you are, Captain Hook, and I know you to be a pirate.  What business brings you to Arandelle with the white flag raised?”

                Killian looked at Emma, who stepped from his arms and grasped the rail to keep herself up right.

                “My business, Admiral Morten.  I am Princess Emma of Misthaven and I seek an audience with her Majesty, Queen Elsa,” Emma shouted as loud as she could. 

                If the Admiral had looked skeptical at a pirate vessel boldly sailing toward Arandelle’s port, it was nothing compared to his look of disbelief at seeing Emma.

                “Your Highness!” The Admiral bellowed in astonishment.  He executed a perfect bow, removing the large hat from his head as he did so. “Her Majesty will welcome the news of your arrival.  Captain Nemo arrived last week with a distressing tale from of Misthaven.”   

                Emma grinned. “I’m glad to hear it.  I look forward to speaking with him.”

                “Your Highness, please come aboard  _The Narwhal_  so that we may transport you into Arandelle with all the honor due to a woman of your rank.”

                Killian bristled at the Admirals insinuation that the _Jolly Roger_  was unworthy to carry royalty.  While his ship was in a rough state, she had gotten Emma this far. 

                “I am content here, Lord Admiral, but I would be honored by your escort,” she replied, her words brusque.

                The Admiral must have realized he had offended Emma, for his “Of course, your Highness,” was apologetic.          

                After that, there was no more talk and the _Jolly Roger_  sailed into port of Arandelle until the protection of the _Narwhal_. 

                “Would you like to come with me to the palace?” Emma asked him as they sailed into the harbor.

                Killian shook his head. “I would, love, but I need to remain with my men.”  At least until he knew they wouldn’t all be arrested as soon as Emma disembarked.

                His crew was, understandably, tense as they dropped anchor.  Even Killian found it hard to relax at the sight of the dozen men in uniform that waited on the dock.  Thankfully, not one made a move to board the _Jolly Roger_  after they lowered the gangplank. 

                Though Emma was dressed in a simple tunic, trousers, and a salt stained vest, Emma walked down the plank and approached the Admiral with a regal bearing.

                “Admiral, this ship and all her men are under my personal protection,” she informed the admiral in a tone that invited no argument. “I will be very distressed if anything untoward were to happen to them.”

                The Admiral’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, hard, and Killian could only imagine the look Emma had on her face to elicit such a reaction. “You have my word, your Highness,” the man replied with a half-bow.

                Killian’s heart clenched in his chest as he watched as Emma climbed into the waiting carriage.

                This wasn’t goodbye, he told himself. 

                This wasn’t goodbye.

\---

                Emma rolled her eyes at Admiral Morten’s formality as he announced, “Your Majesty, may I present her Highness, Princess Emma,” as he escorted her into Elsa’s private study.

                A yelled “Emma!” was all the warning she had before she found herself wrapped firmly in the arms of Princess Anna. 

                “Emma, what is going on?  How did you get here?  Why do you smell so badly?” The exuberant younger woman peppered Emma with questions without giving her a chance to respond.

                “Anna, please.  Emma doesn’t need to be told she smells,” Elsa interrupted and Emma glanced over Anna’s head to see her beautiful friend approaching with a wide smile on her face.

                “My apologies if I do.  I’ve been aboard a pirate ship for nearly six weeks,” Emma explained.

                Anna pulled back from her hug. “A pirate ship?  Really?  Why?  Were you taken prisoner?”

                “Anna,” Elsa warned in a firm tone. “I’m sure Emma will be happy to explain later.”

                “Of course, sorry Emma,” the contrite Princess said.

                “It’s alright,” Emma comforted her.  Once she was released from Anna’s grasp, Emma found herself pulled into Elsa’s arms in a rare show of affection from her less physically affectionate friend.

                “Emma, we have been so worried!” Elsa exclaimed. “Captain Nemo told us that you weren’t present in Misthaven when Regina staged her coup, but we feared the worst!”

                “Coup?” Emma squeaked in shock. “Elsa, I’ve been at sea for weeks.  All I know is that there is a blockade preventing me from returning home, which is why I came here.”

                “I’m so glad you did and we will do everything in our power to assist you in returning home,” Elsa said as she grasped Emma’s hand.  Admiral Morten coughed in response to his Queen’s words and Elsa shot him a glare.

                “Thank you, Elsa, for your offer.  But first, will someone please tell me what happened to my kingdom while I’ve been away?”

\---

                Elsa was more than happy to update Emma about the situation in Misthaven, but insisted in doing so while Emma had a bath. 

                “Do I really stink?” Emma asked as they waited while the bath was filled by some of the palace’s maids.  She’d grown accustomed to the smell of her own body odor while aboard The _Jolly Roger,_  since there was little water to spare for more than a quick scrub down with a wet rag every so often.

                “Rather badly, yes,” Elsa admitted.  “Though that isn’t a surprise if you’ve been at sea for weeks.  Also, here, you can tell me what adventure you’ve been without Anna interrupting every minute.”

                Emma chuckled.  Anna was a wonderfully carefree woman, but she tended not to always think about her words before speaking.  After the bath was ready, Emma told Elsa her tale while relaxing in the hot, lavender-scented water.  Her friend listened in silence until the end.

                “No wonder Regina has blockaded Misthaven,” Elsa finally said.  “If you can’t get back to Henry, you can’t break the curse.”            

                Emma nodded.  It was a pity that she needed Henry’s participation in order to lift the curse on him.

                “You said Captain Nemo arrived a week ago?” Emma asked.

                “Yes.  He said Regina invaded one night and placed the castle under siege with the help of troops from Briar.  He was in Blanchard with his ship, apparently, and was able to leave before the blockade was fully in place.  He came here to request aid in locating you,” Elsa explained.

                Emma was thankful that Captain Nemo had avoided being trapped in the castle.  Half of the men and woman who served aboard  _The Nautilus_  were trained Assassins and they would be invaluable in her efforts to liberate her kingdom.

                Once Emma felt that she was rid of the weeks of built up dirt and grime and would no longer offend anyone’s noses, Elsa arranged for Emma to borrow a few of Anna’s dresses.  Autumn was almost over and Arandelle was already feeling the chill of winter.  The locally clothing would keep Emma warmer than anything Emma had brought with her when she’d left Misthaven almost three months before. 

                 “May I have Rumpelstiltskin transferred to one of the cells in your dungeon?” Emma requested.  “I’m be more comfortable if he was kept in a more secure location than the brig of the _Jolly Roger_.”

\---

                An escort of palace guards was arranged and Emma went down to the harbor to retrieve her prisoner from the _Jolly Roger._  The ship was at the same dock as when she had left it earlier in the day, though there was a larger presence of navy men in the area than she remembered.  Likely assigned by Admiral Morten to keep an eye on the pirate ship.

                 Word must have traveled ahead of her coming, because the crew of the _Jolly Roger_  was assembled on deck when Emma arrived.  Killian was front and center, leaning against the mast, and Emma’s heart thudded in her chest at the sight of him.  His hair was still damp and his beard trimmed, so he must have taken some time to clean up.  He’d also forgone his greatcoat and was wearing a red vest Emma hadn’t seen before.  Overall, he looked quite formidable and the group of guards that had come with her hesitated at the bottom of the gangplank.  However, she knew the man beneath the Captain Hook persona and stepped aboard the ship without hesitation.

                “Princess,” Killian said with a smirk as she approached.  

                “Captain,” she replied. “I’m here to collect Rumpelstiltskin.”

                Killian nodded.  “Joshua, bring our prisoner up from the brig,” he ordered. 

                The quartermaster and his brother disappeared below deck.  While she waited, Emma turned to Killian and asked, “My apologies for taking so long to return.  Have you and the crew been treated well?”

                Killian shrugged and crossed his arms across his chest.  “We’ve been ordered not to leave the ship, but some food and drink was brought a couple of hours ago.”

                “I plan to speak to the Admiral about finding a shipwright to come see to the repairs the _Jolly Roger_ needs.  I’ll ask him to lessen the restrictions on you and your crew as well,” Emma told him.

                “That is appreciated, your Highness.”  

                Emma frowned, bothered by Killian’s use of her rank.  He had seemed unbothered by her confession of her royal status, but perhaps he had had second thoughts since arriving in Arandelle.

                Killian’s eyes narrowed when he glanced over her shoulder.  Emma turned and watched as Rumpelstiltskin was brought on deck. 

                “Arandelle?” The sorcerer asked after looking around.

                “A necessary detour, I’m afraid.  Don’t worry, Her Majesty assures me that she has had the palace’s finest cell prepared to receive you,” Emma informed him, the last part dripping with sarcasm.

                “I can’t say I’ll be disappointed if I never have to see that bastard again,” Killian said to her as they watched the sorcerer loaded into the back of a secure carriage the palace guards had brought with them.  However, now that you’ll no longer be needing our services, my crew are anxious to see the reward promised them.”

                Emma’s stomach dropped at Killian’s words.

                Oh.

                “Of course, the remaining half of your payment, now that the job is complete.” Emma tried to keep the hurt out of her voice as she spoke. “I’ll need to speak with Elsa, but I’m sure she will be willing to lend me the amount I owe you.  You’ll have it tomorrow.”

                Emma turned and disembarked the _Jolly Roger_.  She climbed back into the carriage that had brought her and refused to look out at the ship and her Captain as she was transported back toward the palace.

                Though the job she had hired Killian and his crew for was ending in a different destination than originally intended, it had been successfully completed.  Therefore, it was understandable that he was curious about the gold she had promised when she had secured his services.

                He was a pirate, after all.

                So why did she feel like her heart was breaking?

                Back at the palace, Emma made sure that Rumpelstiltskin was securely locked away. To ensure he couldn’t escape, Rumpelstiltskin would have two guards outside his cell.

                After supper, Emma claimed exhaustion and made her way to the suite of rooms Elsa had long ago set aside for her.  She had intended to go straight to sleep, but found herself unable to do so.  She couldn’t stop thinking about the way she had parted from Killian. 

                Killian had professed that he loved her.  Not just once, while under duress, but again before her confession.  Though she hadn’t been able to get herself to say the same words to him in return, Emma knew that she loved him in return.

                Had he been lying? 

                Had he only said it because he thought that was what she had wanted to hear?

                Emma cursed at herself for her doubts as she punched at her pillow.

                She’d been staring straight into Killian’s eyes when he had told her that he loved her and there had been no deceit in them. 

                He loved her.

                And she loved him.

                So why?

                So why did Killian seemed so keen to remind her that he had fulfilled his end of their contract?

                Long after night had fallen, the sound of glass breaking startled Emma out of her ruminations. 

                She immediately pulled the dagger she had hidden below her pillow and slowly crept from bed.  Hidden behind its bulk, she waited.    

                A shadow passed outside the door that lead to the balcony. 

                Emma repositioned herself so that she would be behind the door when it opened. 

                A few minutes passed and Emma had begun to think that she had imagined the shadow when she heard the telltale click of the lock of the door being released.  She readied herself.

                The door crept open without a sound. 

                As soon as her mysterious visitor set foot within the room, Emma launched herself forward.  Her shoulder connected with a solid mass, which cried out in pain.

                Recognizing the voice of the intruder, Emma scrambled backwards and reached for a lantern.  When she turned up the flame, she found the pirate Captain who had been occupy her thoughts sprawled out on the floor, a pained look on his face and an arm wrapped around his ribs.

                “Killian!  What are you doing here?” Emma yelled.

                “Learning a lesson about sneaking into a Princesses’ chambers uninvited,” Killian moaned.

                Emma couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped her as she helped Killian from the floor. 

                “Seriously, Killian, what were you thinking?  We’re on the third floor!  What if you had fallen?  Or been caught by the guards?” Emma berated him as she guided him to the bed.

                “Truthfully, love, I wasn’t really thinking.  I just knew that I had to see you,” he told her as she helped him sit.

                “Really?  And what is so important it couldn’t wait until morning?” Emma asked.  Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, from both the adrenaline caused by his sudden appearance and her nervousness as to the reason.

                Killian grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him.  She stepped between his legs and was drawn into his embrace.

                “I realized after you left, my love, that my words to you on ihe _Jolly Roger_  may have been misconstrued,” Killian told her.

                Emma’s heart skipped a beat.

                Killian continued, “It wasn’t my intention to imply that since my services were no longer needed, I wished to collect my payment and leave.”

                “It wasn’t?”

                “No, love.  But since the job is over, I felt it only polite that I give you the option of ending our association.” Killian reached up and scratched behind his ear. “You’re a Princess, Emma.  What use could you have for an old scoundrel like me?  I figured I would make it easy for you to send me away, if that was what you wished to do.”

                Emma’s heart broke again at hearing the strong, incredible man in front of her speak so calmly about his motives.  Did he really think that she would be so callous as to just toss him aside? 

                Emma kneeled down so that she and Killian were level and told him, “Killian Jones, I have no desire to be rid of you.  Not now, not ever.”

                Killian smiled, but she would still see the hesitancy in his eyes.

                So Emma continued.   “I love you, you daft pirate,” she told him, his face grasped in her hands.

                The grin that followed her confession was filled with joy, and only a tad salacious.

                “I’m glad to hear it,” Killian whispered as he leaned his forehead against hers.

                The two of them stayed that way for a moment, until Emma lifted her head and pressed her lips to Killian’s.  He returned her kiss with enthusiasm and pulled her close.

                Things heated up quickly and Emma soon had Killian bent backwards and pressed against the bed.  However, her passion cooled swiftly when her knee accidentally pressed into Killian’s side and caused him to let out a noise of discomfort.

                “Your ribs, I’m sorry,” Emma cried as she, once again, removed herself from atop Killian. 

                “I’ll be fine, love,” he said as he reached for her.  Though she was hesitant, she allowed herself to be pulled forward until she stood between his legs. 

                “I may be injured, love, but I am still capable of bringing you to new heights of pleasure,” Killian purred.  His hand skimmed down her side before disappearing underneath the bottom of her nightgown.  His knuckles brushed against the skin of her inner thigh, which caused Emma to shiver.

                “Killian,” Emma moaned as his fingers teased at her entrance.  She parted her legs to give him better access.

                “Relax, love,” Killian whispered as he slipped two fingers into her.  His other arm wrapped around Emma’s waist and pulled her close to him.  Though the fabric of her dress covered her breasts, Killian immediately found one of her nipples and proceeded to tease it with his tongue and teeth.  He did the same to the other until both were hard.

                Emma heard a ripping sound as Killian’s hook tore through the thin fabric of her nightdress.  The cool air of the room on her back caused her to shiver.

                “I borrowed this from Anna,” Emma whispered as Killian helped her remove the now useless nightgown with his hook. 

                “I’ll buy her a new one,” Killian replied before he buried his face between her breasts.

                Getting close to the edge, Emma started to rock her hips in time with Killian’s hand.  Killian repositioned his hand between her legs so that he was able to tease her clit with his thumb.  When he flicked this thumb across the sensitive nub, her orgasm washed over her.

                Killian’s fingers continued to pump in and out, which extended her climax.  When it subsided, Emma slouched forward until her head rested on Killian’s shoulder.  This gave her a perfect view of the bulge in Killian’s leather pant.  Emma reached down and palmed Killian’s cock.  He moaned and turned his head to capture her lips in a kiss.

                While they explored each other’s mouths, Emma worked on opening Killian’s trousers.  Once she had the knots undone, she was able to release Killian’s cock from the tight confines of the leather.  She gave him a light squeeze and Killian broke their kiss to let out another moan.

                “Let me take care of you, Captain,” Emma whispered in Killian’s ear before she dropped to her knees and took his cock in her mouth.

                “Bloody hell,” Killian groaned.  His hand wove into the strands of Emma’s hair but he didn’t try to guide her movements. 

                Emma took her time.  She slowly circled the head of his cock with her tongue and lapped up the salty pre-come that followed.  She teased him with hard sucks and soft licks before she leaned her head forward to take as much of his cock as she could.  It took some effort, but eventually she had all of him in her mouth.  She then hummed and would have grinned at the string of barley articulate oaths that spilled from Killian’s mouth had she been able.

                Emma pulled back for a moment to catch her breath, but her hand still stroked up and down Killian’s hard length.  It twitched in her hand as she teased the tip with her thumb.  When she ducked her head to continue her ministrations, Killian’s hook on her chin stopped her.  His hand closed around her upper arm and with a tug, she was back on her feet.

                However, she wasn’t standing for long.  Killian pulled her close with an arm around her waist and guided her so that her legs straddled his. 

                “Your ribs,” Emma whispered as Killian’s hook on her back pressed her down.

                “Aren’t important right now,” he replied as he lined himself up and slid into her quim. 

                “By all that is great and good, love…” Killian swore once she was fully seated on his lap.  Emma braced her knees on the bed frame on either side of Killian, careful to avoid his injured side.  This position gave her enough leverage to move herself up and down on Killian’s cock.

                “Oh sweet Aphrodite,” he muttered as she rode him. 

                Emma quickly headed toward another climax when Killian began to move his hips in time with hers.  When his breath picked up Emma knew that he was also close.  Emma moved her hand down to where they were joined.  She circled her clit with her thumb and stroked Killian’s cock with her fingers each time it emerged from within her.

                Once she reached her orgasm, Emma’s back arched and Killian buried his face in her breasts when he followed her to his climax shortly after.  In the aftermath, Killian collapsed backwards on the bed.

                Emma smiled down at her lover.  He looked utterly wrecked with his hair sticking up in every direction and Emma felt a twinge of pride that it was because of her.           

\-------------------------------------------------------------     

\---

                If the unexpected guest at the breakfast table surprised Elsa the next morning, no sign of it showed on her face.  She simply introduced herself to Killian and thanked him to transporting Emma safely to Arandelle.  Admiral Morten and the Captain of Arandelle’s Royal Guard, however, were less than thrilled at the pirate’s presence in the palace, if the looks they sent Killian when Elsa wasn’t looking were any indication.

                Killian hadn’t told Emma how he’d sneaked his way into the well-guarded palace, though she had asked. He’d simply grinned and told her that “All men need their secrets,” and left it at that.  She’d been tempted to kiss the cocky smile off his face, but knew if she did they’d be late for breakfast, so she restrained herself. 

                After breakfast, she left Killian telling tales of his adventures to Anna and her fiancé Kristof. Though Elsa had gladly given her the 500 gold doubloons to settle the monetary debt between herself and Killian, there was still the matter of Liam Jones’ location.

                Emma found the Captain in the palaces sumptuous library, going over what looked to be old building plans. 

                “Trying to figure out how to break into my castle, Captain?” Emma asked as soon as she realized that the plans spread out were old architect’s schematics for the royal castle in Misthaven.

                 “Trying and failing, I’m afraid Princess,” Nemo admitte

                 Emma sighed.  The monumental task of rescuing her parents and liberating her home from Regina’s control was not one she felt at all prepared to handle.

                “I’m sure we will think of something.  Until then, I would like to fulfil my promise to Captain Hook and give him the location of Liam Jones.  Was he on the  _Nautilus_  when you escaped Misthaven?” Emma inquired.

                “He was,” Nemo replied.  

                Emma waited, hoping Nemo would give her more information on the boy’s whereabouts.  The last thing she wanted was for the lad to come across Killian while wandering the halls of the palace.  Right or wrong, he blamed Killian for his father’s death and an unexpected meeting would not end well for either of them.

                  “Captain, I can assure you that Captain Hook means Liam no harm.  From what I have gauged, he is simply concerned for the lad,” Emma told Nemo, choosing her words carefully.  Killian had shared the reasons he sought Liam to Emma one night aboard the _Jolly Roger_  but she didn’t want to reveal her the closeness of her relationship with Killian by telling Nemo his motivations.

                 After a few minutes of silence, Nemo relented and told her that Liam remained aboard the _Nautilus_ , where he would be assisting with restocking the vessel for its inevitable return to Misthaven. 

                “Regina won’t kill my parents, Nemo.  She wants to make them suffer, which means she will continue to target me, or Henry,” Emma told the Captain. “That means we have the time to come up with a good, solid plan before we strike.”

                Reassured by her own words, Emma returned to where she had left Killian.  He was still entertaining Anna and Kristof with tales of life on the high seas, though the Official Arandelle Ice Master had a rather credulous look on his face.

                “I hate to interrupt, but Captain, may I have a word?” Emma asked when Killian finished his latest story.                 

                “Anything for a Princess as lovely as you,” Killian said with a overdramatic bow.

                Emma placed a large satchel containing the promised 500 gold doubloons on a table, where it made a satisfying thump.  Killian whistled as he open the flap and ran his hand along the gold coins.  Thankfully, Elsa had the Misthaven coins in her treasury or Killian would be paying his crew in thousands of small silver speciedalers, Arandelle’s local currency.

                “I should get this to my crew, love,” Killian said as he hefted the heavy satchel on his shoulder.

                “May I join you?” Emma asked.  She wanted to take Killian to the  _Nautilus_  so that he could see his brother.

                Killian held out his arm in the way he did the night of the Camelot ball. “I would be honored to escort you, m’lady.”

                Emma and Killian made their way toward the docks.  The crew of the _Jolly Roger_  were happy to see their Captain, and the gold he brought.  As Killian oversaw the divvying up of shares, Emma wandered the ship.  It had been her home for months and it felt odd not knowing the next time she would be aboard the ship.

                “Be careful, your Highness,” Victor told her when she stopped by sick bay, “some of the men aboard were less than thrilled to learn of your heritage.”

                 _That explains the cold looks_ , Emma thought.  Even a few of the men she had become friendly with had given her what she could only describe as stink-eye when she’d come aboard with Killian.

                “Nor are they too pleased with your relationship with the Captain. There have been whispers of sirens and love potions,” Victor continued and Emma couldn’t help but gawk at him in shock.

                “Surely you don’t believe I’ve cast some kind of spell on Ki… Hook?” she asked, correcting herself midway.  It suddenly didn’t seem wise to show just how familiar she was with his Captain.

                Victor shrugged.  “Sailors are a superstitious lot, m’lady, and they are having a hard time understanding why their Captain, a pirate, seems unbothered by your royal status.”

                Emma slouched against the wall, dejected.  If Killian noticed a change in her demeanor when he found her sometime later, which she was sure he had, he didn’t mention it.  He simply rested his hand on the small of her back and guided her off his ship, jovial as he had been all morning.

                Knowing she had a job to do, Emma tried her best to shake of her melancholy caused by learning she was causing a rift between Killian and his crew and suggested they stop by where the _Nautilus_  was docked.

                “I never believed men could travel under the sea as well as a top it until I first saw the _Nautilus_  in action.  She’s a magnificent vessel,” Killian told her they watched a few of Nemo’s men as they loaded the ship with anticipated supplies.

                “She is.  Though I must say, I much prefer being aboard the _Jolly Roger_.  I’m not a fan of being cooped up in small spaces without any means of escape.  At least on a normal ship, you can always go on deck.  But on the  _Nautilus_ , you can’t,” Emma admitted.  She wouldn’t say she was claustrophobic, per say, but small enclosed spaces tended to bother her.

                Killian cocked his head as he studied her. “Is that why you were so out of it when you came out of the orange barrel?” He asked.

                “I think it was the knowledge that I was being lifted and had no control over what was going on that really bothered me,” Emma told him.  After she did so, she spotted a small figure climbing from the top of the _Nautilus_.  She wasn’t sure if Killian recognized him, but she immediately knew it was Liam.  He was the youngest member of Nemo’s crew.

                “Killian, what do you plan to do once you know where Liam is?” Emma asked. 

                It was Killian’s turn to shrug.  “I don’t really know.   Nemo once assured me he was being taken care of, but I just want to confirm, with my own eyes, that that is true.  If it is not, I would do what I could to find a better situation for him.  Not with me, of course; maybe a school? Somewhere he could have opportunities of a better life.” 

                 Emma pressed her lip’s to Killian’s in a quick kiss after his answer.  She knew it took a lot for him to admit that his being in Liam’s life may not be the best thing for his younger brother.  

                “I think he’s doing quite well,” Emma whispered as she lifted her arm and pointed to where Liam was passing a crate of oranges to another of the _Nautilus’_  crew.  She and Killian were partially hidden behind the harbormaster’s office, so Liam wouldn’t be able to see them watching him.

                Killian’s eyes followed to where she was pointing and a dozen emotions battled for dominance on his face after he spotted Liam.  Sadness, joy, hope, and even a little anger. 

                “He looks like him,” Killian murmured.  Emma was confused for a moment before she remembered that his older brother had also been named Liam.  She then wondered what kind of man Killian’s father had to have been, to name his third son after one of those he had abandoned years before, but she forced herself to ignore that train of thought so she could concentrate of supporting Killian.

                “He’s Nemo’s apprentice.  While I’m sure you probably aren’t thrilled to learn he is part of the Brotherhood, I know Nemo takes excellent care of his initiates,” Emma told him. 

                Emma explained what she knew of Liam, and Killian nodded, but his eye never left Liam.  Nemo had taken the boy in not long after his father’s death, when he’d been maybe ten or eleven years old.  He was a gangly teen now, not entirely in control of his limbs and unsure of his height. 

                “Would you like to meet him?” Emma inquired.

                Killian hummed.  “Not today, I think,” he said.  He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her away from the _Nautilus_.

\---

                Emma and Killian returned to the palace and spent the rest of the day in the library with Captain Nemo and Admiral Morten brainstorming possible ideas to liberate Misthaven from Regina’s control.  Sadly, until the scouts Arandelle had sent out after the _Nautilus’_  arrival returned with information on the blockade, they could only come up with theoretical plans.

                Emma was in a morose mood that night, so Killian did his best to distract her by reminding her of how far she had already come to saving her son.  When that didn’t work, he settled on wearing her out physically until she fell into an exhausted sleep. 

                The next morning, Killian made his way down to the harbor to see to his ship.  He found his crew glaring sternly at the two Navy shipwrights Elsa had provided to begin repairs on the _Jolly Roger._

                “I have to say, Captain, I’m amazed she is still afloat,” one of the men said as he inspected the holes the mortar fire had left in her deck.

                “It was a close thing,” Killian admitted.  Though he had been willing to sacrifice himself, his crew, and his ship in order for Emma to escape, he was glad that her timely magical intervention had prevented that fate.  The _Jolly Roger_  had weathered many battles in her years but none had come as close to sinking her than the one with the  _Queen Anne’s Revenge_. 

                “I don’t think we have any spare cannons to replace the ones you lost, but we should be able to get her fixed up so you can be on your way in about a week or so,” the other shipwright told Killian. 

                Killian nodded and left the shipwrights debating the best manner to go about repairing the ship.  He convened his crew on the lower deck and informed them that they would be remaining in Arandelle for at least another week.

                “She be seaworthy now, Captain,” one of his crew objected and a few others yelled their support.

                “That may be, but she’ll decorate Davy Jones’ Locker if we were to get caught in even one of the smaller storms,” Killian countered.  The more seasoned men among the crew nodded their heads in agreement.  Though the warmer waters further south would get the worst of the storms, it was not uncommon for some of the strongest to make their way this far north. 

                “It’s only a four day sail to Alexandria, surely we could make it that far,” Ollie called from the back.  “They have better brothels!”

                Hoots of laughter and a slew of bawdy remarks followed Ollie’s declaration.  Even the normally serious Joshua chuckled. 

                “That may be, but do you really want to risk death to scuttle a doxie?”

                His men laughed at his flippant remark, but underneath the jovial sound Killian heard someone say, “Why not?  It’s what you’ve done.”

                The crew fell silent.

                Anger welled in Killian’s chest and he turned his gaze toward James.  The young man was leaning against the curved hull of the ship, his arms crossed on his chest.  James pushed off the hull and returned Killian’s glare once he realized that the whole crew had heard his flippant comment. 

                “We all know you’re rogering that drab up at the palace,” James said with reproach. 

                Unhappy with the insulting term James had used to refer to Emma, Killian snarled his reply, “I advise you to choose your words carefully, mate.”

                James continued his tirade, headless of Killian’s warning.  “It’s not for fear of storms you don’t want to leave Arandelle, Captain, it’s so you can continue to have that strumpet’s lips around your cock.”

                Killian reached out with his hook and snagged the collar of James’ shirt.  He dragged the other man forward until the two of them stood nose to nose.

                “My relationship with Lady Emma is no business of yours,” Killian growled in the other man’s face.

                James only grinned.  “It is when that wench is the reason you’re neglecting your Captainly duties, sir.”

                Killian shoved James away in revulsion.  His words had done their damage, though, as Killian heard a grumble of assent from the rest of the crew.  Killian looked at Joshua and the quartermaster had a deep frown on his face as he studied the crew.     

                Killian turned and addressed the assembled men.  “Is that the way of it?  You feel that I’m not serving the interests of the crew?”

                A number of men nodded.  Killian was unsurprised to see that many were men who had not sailed with him much before this job.  The men who had seemed to have less issue with his actions or agreed with his assessment of the risks of leaving Arandelle before repairs could be made to the ship.

                As Killian studied the twenty remaining members of his crew, he reviewed his options.  If he pulled rank and as Captain insisted they remain in Arandelle, he could fan the flames of discontent among the crew.  Since he served as Captain only by their will, they could hold a vote to see if the majority of the crew wished to remove him from that position.  As it stood, Killian was unsure if such a vote would go in his favor.

                Joshua cleared his throat and stepped forward.  “Let us ignore the supposed relationship between her Highness and our Captain,” he said in calm voice. “Hook speaks the truth that sailing to Alexandria now could see the _Jolly Roger_  at the bottom of the ocean with the state she’s in.  As your chosen quartermaster, I second our Captain’s desire to remain in Arandelle until repairs are made.”

                “Why don’t we put the matter to a vote?” Ollie suggested and most of the crew nodded in agreement.

                “A vote it is,” Killian said.  “All in favor of remaining in Arandelle for repairs, say aye!”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way.

_\-----------------------------_    _\-----------------------------_

               Much to Killian’s relief, the crew voted twelve to eight to remain in Arandelle. Ollie had grumbled loudly as he hobbled off, but it was James that Killian and Joshua kept a close eye on as the crew dispersed.  

               The two of them retreated to the Captain’s cabin after the vote, and Killian dropped into his chair with a sigh. “He’ll be trouble, Captain,” Joshua warned.

               “He already is,” Killian agreed, running his hand through his hair.

               Joshua nodded, and sighed. “I’ll do my best to put down any more talk of leaving before the repairs are complete, but once they are, the men will expect us to be on our way.”

               Killian acknowledged the further warning with a nod, and the other man left to see to the disgruntled crewmembers.  Once he was alone, Killian dropped his head onto the wood of the table and groaned in frustration.

               It was just his luck that the woman he had fallen for was a Princess.  He could only imagine that Starkey was having a good laugh at his expense in the next life.

               He had a choice ahead of him.  If he was to pursue a serious relationship with Emma, there was no way he could continue with his marauding ways.  A pirate was not an appropriate consort for the heir to the throne of Misthaven.  It would be disastrous to the kingdom’s political relations.

               His only options were to walk away from the _Jolly Roger_  and being Captain Hook. He could either return to being Killian Jones, former Templar… or adopt a completely new identity that hopefully wouldn’t ruffle too many feathers. Especially those of Emma’s royal parents.

               Killian contemplated his future for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening.  After he joined his crew for a splendid supper of roasted salmon, he sent Smee to the palace with a letter to Emma to let her know he would be staying on his ship that night.  The crew was still too tense for him to leave his ship unattended.  Smee had assured Killian that he would be able to sneak off the ship without the notice of either his fellow crew or the badly disguised members of Arandelle’s navy that were keeping an eye on the visiting pirate vessel.

               To put his time aboard his ship to good use, Killian returned to his charts of the waters around Misthaven.  His conundrum of how to properly court the country’s Princess would be a moot point if they couldn’t quell the siege Regina had on the Kingdom.

               He was trying to decipher the scrawl of whoever had drawn one of the charts when a small breeze blew through his cabin.  He looked up and frowned at the hatch that led to the quarterdeck. He’d secured it earlier in the day, but it was now propped open.

               Killian reached for his sword as he inspected the room. He jerked when he felt a hand slip over his.

               “Relax, Captain,” Emma whispered in his ear.  She came around his chair and sat herself on his desk, directly in front of him.  Killian raised an eyebrow.  

               Emma was wearing an outfit he had not seen before; one he was sure she hadn’t borrowed from the royal family.  Her long legs, which she had crossed in front of her, were clad in brown leather trousers.  She wore a long white overcoat that had red accents along the interior, its tails, and its upright collar.  A leather pauldron with metal embellishments in the shape of wings adorned one shoulder, and from it a half cape flowed over Emma’s back, its design a style he couldn’t remember seeing outside of a history text.  Finally, a large belt with the logo of the Assassin Brotherhood front and center was cinched around her waist.

_\-------------------------------_ _\-------------------------------_

               “This is quite the getup, love,” Killian said as he reached forward and ran his hand down the soft leather covering her hips.

               Emma chuckled.  “Elsa’s laundress is still holding most of my clothing hostage, so I borrowed this from one of the Assassins aboard the _Nautilus_.  I couldn’t very well sneak aboard your ship in a dress, could I?”

               Killian stood, placed his hand and hook on either side of Emma, and leaned forward.  “What did I say about coming aboard my ship without permission, love?”

               Emma grinned as she reached up and toyed with the charms of his necklace. “I believe it was something about throwing me in the brig.”

               “I can’t very well do that to a Princess, though, so I guess I’ll need to come up with a different punishment more suitable for a lady of your status,” Killian whispered in Emma’s ear as he coaxed her legs open and fit himself between them.  He rubbed his hardening cock against her.

               Emma moaned as she lifted her hips to meet his own. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close for a passionate kiss.  They explored each other’s mouths until Killian pulled back. He stepped backwards and sat back in the chair he had vacated earlier.  He beckoned Emma to follow him with the curl of a finger.  Emma raised a single brow but hopped off his desk.  

               “I find your presence aboard my ship very distracting, your Highness,” Killian said as he rubbed his hand across the bulge of his cock.  Emma’s eyes followed his movement.        

               “My apologies, Captain,” she said, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.  He grinned: she seemed to be following along with his game.

               Killian deftly undid the laces of his trousers and freed his cock from the confines of the leather.  He took himself in hand and slowly moved his fingers along the length.   “Since it was you who has caused this problem, I think it is only fitting that it is you who takes care of it.”

               “Is that so?” Emma stepped forward and reached down until her hand wrapped around his on his cock.  Killian suppressed a moan when she ran her nails lightly along his length.

               “It must be so hard, getting any work done with such a large problem,” Emma said with a grin.  She dropped to her knees as she continued to pump her hand up and down.

               “That it is…” Killian started to say before Emma leaned her head forward and wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock.  He let out a long moan when she swiped her tongue along its head.  Killian wove his hand into Emma’s hair and toyed with the soft strands as he enjoyed her ministrations.

               When he felt his climax nearing, he tried to warn Emma with a tug on her hair and a gasped, “Love, I’m…”

               However, Emma only continued with more enthusiasm. Her lips and hand worked in tandem and a minute later, Killian’s body tensed as he came.  His eyes rolled back in his head as Emma continued to suck as he released his seed into her mouth.  She swallowed one final time before leaning back on her heals.  

               “So, Captain, am I forgiven for my trespassing?” Emma said with a wicked grin.  Killian stood and reached his hand down toward her.  When she took it, he pulled her to her feet.

               “More than forgiven,” Killian told her as he guided her backwards until her ass bumped into the edge of his desk.  He quickly loosed the belt around her waist and pushed her trousers down until they rested on her hips.  He grabbed one curve of her soft bottom in his hand and, bracing the other with his hook, lifted her so that she could sit on the sturdy wooden surface.

               Killian dropped to his knees and placed soft kisses along the inside of her thighs as he removed her boots.  Once he had, he pulled her trousers the remaining way down her legs. He tossed them over his shoulder as soon as they were fully removed.

               “Now allow me to treat you like the Princess you are,” Killian said as he situated Emma’s legs on his shoulders.  This spread her thighs wide and he was greeted with an unobstructed view of her glistening womanhood.

               “Already so wet for me,” he whispered as he traced his fingers through her sex.  He brought them to his lips and sucked her essence off each finger, his eyes never leaving hers as he did so.  “Is this why you decided to sneak aboard my ship, love?  So that I could take care of this problem for you?”

               Emma opened her mouth to reply but Killian pressed his head forward and sucked on her clit, so all that came out of her was a high-pitched moan.  Killian continued to pay special attention to the bundle of nerves as he inserted one, then two, fingers into her entrance.  One of Emma’s hands pulled sharply on his hair when he curled his fingers to tease the sensitive spot within.

               With lips, tongue, and fingers Killian brought Emma to the edge of her climax before slowing his movements, denying her completion. The growl that rose from her throat sent a jolt of satisfaction down Killian’s spine and his cock began to rise to attention once more.  

               “Killian,” Emma whined as he slowly teased her clit.  He pulled back just enough to reply, “Yes, your Highness?”

               With another growl, the frustrated royal lady yanked Killian’s head back between her legs.  As much as he enjoyed teasing Emma, Killian knew that he couldn’t deny her completion any longer. He applied all his attentions to making sure that she got what she desired.

               As her climaxed neared, Emma’s hips began to buck against his face.  Killian wrapped his hooked arm around Emma’s bottom and pressed the flat side of his hook against the small of her back to steady her. He moved his fingers in and out of her quickly and when Killian felt Emma’s inner walls begin to contract, sucked hard on her clit.  Emma’s scream was muffled and Killian glanced up to see that she had placed her hand over her own mouth.  

               When Emma’s climax had ended, she lay back along his desk, breathing heavily. Killian, however, did not intend to let her catch her breath.  She had denied him her screams of pleasure, which only made him determined to make her scream again.  He quickly lined his hips up with hers and rubbed the tip of his cock along her slit. That was the only warning he gave her before he placed it at her opening and pressed forward until he was fully seated within her.

               “Oh fuck,” Emma moaned as her back arched off desk.

               Killian chuckled as he grabbed Emma’s hips for better leverage.  He pounded his cock in and out and grinned as Emma’s breasts bounced in response.  Emma pressed her hand to her mouth again but Killian quickly reached forward to remove it.  Emma’s eyes, which had been closed, snapped open.  Killian tugged on the hand he held and helped her sit up.  She grasped his shoulders to steady herself from the force of his thrusts.

               “I want to hear you scream, love,” Killian told her.  “Nothing gives me more pleasure than to hear the sound of you getting yours.”

               “But your crew,” Emma panted.  “If they knew I was here…”

               “Are jealous that their Captain has found himself such a fine woman,” Killian growled in her ear.  At the same time, he moved his hand down between them and began rub at her clit. Emma’s head dropped backwards and she moaned.  Killian bent his head and pressed his lips to the curve of neck her movement exposed.  

               “Most of them have to pay a whore even to come near them, but here I am, with a Princess willingly taking my cock,” Killian said as he moved the collar of Emma’s shirt out of the way to expose the curve of her shoulder.  He sucked lightly at the skin before he bit down.

               Emma jerked in his arms and her quim tightened.  He repeated his actions on the other side of her neck and coupled it was a hard press on her clit.  She screamed as this triggered another orgasm.  

               “That’s it love,” Killian crooned in her ear as he continued to fuck her through her climax.  The rhythmic clenching of her inner walls pushed him over the edge and Killian came with a loud, drawn-out groan.

               Emma sagged against him.

               “Satisfied?” She asked.

               Killian hummed against Emma’s neck.  “Very.  You?”

               "Obviously, you pretentious asshole.”

—

               Later that night, Killian lay on his small bed with Emma half-sprawled across him.  The two of them had satisfied each other with lips, tongues, and fingers before she had fallen into a contented slumber, but he found himself unable to sleep. Something teased at the back of his mind that he couldn’t put his hook on.  

               After a fruitless hour of trying to concentrate only on the feeling of Emma in his arms and get some rest, Killian gave up and carefully removed himself from her embrace.  He pulled on a pair of loose linen trousers and relit the lantern on his desk.  He hoped that returning to the task that Emma had interrupted would help him recall whatever it was his mind was trying to remember.

               It was nearing dawn when Killian finally figured it out.  One of the charts Killian had ‘borrowed’ from Captain Kenway had a set of coordinates scribbled in the waters that around Misthaven.  He’d visited the location not long after acquiring the chart and had found evidence that the area was being used by smugglers.  He’d intended to utilize it himself, but the need never arose.

               Until now.

               The cove was located in the north of the kingdom, along a rocky stretch of coastline, only a two day’s journey from the Royal Castle.  The area had an extensive cave system and the smugglers had constructed a tunnel that connected it to the top of the cliffs.  It would be an ease for a ship to sail in, drop off some men in a few longboats, and sail away before anyone noticed.

               A hand on his shoulder startled him as he sketched out the layout of the cove as best as he could remember.  He looked up to find a bleary-eyed Emma gazing down at him.

               “Come back to bed,” she tiredly beseeched him with a tug on his arm.  “We can work on a plan to free my kingdom in the morning.”

               Killian grinned. “I may have already found one,” he said smugly, with a gesture toward his rough drawing.

               Emma’s brow furrowed as she leaned over to study the chart and his sketch.  She was completely nude, and Kilian had a hard time keeping his mind on the task in front of him, rather than on the way her breasts moved with each breath she took.

               “I’ve been here before, for a picnic overlooking the water, but never went down into the cove,” Emma remarked.  “A local said the waters were too rough for swimming.”

               “He was likely one of the smugglers who use it and didn’t want a member of the royal family stumbling upon his ill-gotten goods,” Killian theorized.  “I need to speak with Captain Nemo.  He may know whether the blockades the Templars have would prevent us from reaching this place.”

               Killian hastily got dressed and while Emma did the same, he left her alone in his cabin so that he could speak with Joshua.  His quartermaster wasn’t thrilled at being woken and became even less happy to be told he was being left in charge because Killian needed to go to the palace.

               “This is a bad time to be away from your ship, Hook. The men are riled enough without you disappearing in the night,” Joshua warned.

               “I’ll be back as soon as I explain my idea to Captain Nemo,” Killian assured the other man.  

               He returned to his cabin and found Emma fully dressed and waiting.  They gathered the charts they would need and made their way off his ship.  Since it was still dark out, Killian grabbed one of the lanterns to light their path.

               When they reached the _Nautilus_ , the young man on guard duty greeted them with a snappy salute.  The water lapped against the hull of the submarine with a comforting soft noise.

               “Aziz, will you tell Captain Nemo that Princess Emma and Captain Hook have an urgent matter they wish to speak with him about?” Emma asked him.  

               Aziz, who Killian guessed to be in his late teens, nodded and disappeared down a hatch.  He returned a few minutes later.  “Captain Nemo invites you to come aboard, your Highness. Captain,” he said with a small bow in Emma’s direction.  

               Once they were inside the vessel, Aziz guided them to a surprisingly well-appointed room.  Killian hadn’t expected the metal ship Nemo called home to be decorated in Arabian rugs and tapestries.  Captain Nemo was waiting for them behind a large, dark wood desk that would be at home in any royal palace.

               “I’m sorry if we woke you, Captain, but Hook had an idea that may help us liberate Misthaven,” Emma informed him, while Killian laid out the charts he had brought with him on one of the room’s tables. Since Nemo was fully dressed in his naval uniform, Killian suspected that he had yet to be to bed that night.

               “There is a smuggler’s cove north of Blanchard that may be an ideal place for a group of people to disembark and travel overland to the castle,” Killian told the other Captain.  “I doubt that Regina would know about it, so it’s possible the blockade won’t extend that far north.”

               Nemo studied the charts and Killian’s sketch in silence.  He then brought out his own charts and compared the two sets.

               “It’s a workable idea, Hook,” Nemo told them. “But what if the blockade does restrict our access to the cove?”

               “Can’t the  _Nautilus_  just sail under it?” Killian asked carefully. The question had been in the back of his mind since arriving in Arandelle and finding out that Captain Nemo was also in residence.

               To his disappointment, the submarine captain shook his head. “Not since some sorcerer developed a way to detect the movements of my ship underwater,” Nemo admitted.

               “Is there a way we could force our way past the blockade, if we had to?” Emma inquired.

               Nemo frowned.  “It depends on the type, the number, and the formation of the ships in the area we need to pass through,” he told her.  

               “Elsa has already offered any assistance she can give.  Perhaps the full might of Arandelle’s Navy will make a few of the Captains think twice about challenging a ship trying to break the blockade,” Emma suggested.  

               “Doubtful.  Templars aren’t prone to cowardice or betrayal and abandoning the blockade would be both,” Killian said with resignation.  “What if we used Arandelle’s Navy to make it look like we’re going to attack and try to break the blockade?  We could assemble somewhere in the south and allow ourselves to be spotted by their scouts.  They would summon other ships to that area in preparation for our attack and that would leave other spots in the blockade underdefended.”

               Nemo turned his head just enough for Killian to see the other Captain giving him a narrow stare.  Killian clenched his fist; was it in response to the confidence in which he had spoken about how the Templars would respond to such an action?

               But the submariner didn’t pursue it. “And if the Templars decide to attack the fleet instead?” Nemo asked.

               “Alright then.  I’ll speak with the two of them and present our idea.”

 —               

               After their meeting with Captain Nemo, Emma headed to the palace while Killian returned to his ship.   Emma slipped into her guest chambers to don a more formal gown, then joined the royal family for breakfast.  Afterwards, she requested a meeting with Admiral Morten and Elsa, where she laid out the plan which she, Killian, and Nemo had come up with.

               Emma had no sooner finished her explanation when Elsa nodded, laying her hands on the map on the table in front of them. “We will need to wait until the scouts return to determine whether this will even be necessary, but it couldn’t hurt to begin speaking with my other advisors in anticipation of such military action being necessary,” she said.

               Though Elsa held supreme power in her kingdom, she did regularly consult with her advisors, high-ranking nobles from throughout the kingdom, before making any major decisions. Committing part of the navy to what could be a risky undertaking without speaking with them would be, as Killian would say, bad form.  Additionally, she would need to convince her kingdom’s aristocrats that getting involved with the situation in Misthaven would be to Arandelle’s benefit.

               “Thank you, Elsa,” Emma said with gratitude.  She left her friend to ponder the political situation, and headed to her own room.

               She was stopped in the hall by Aziz, the sailor that had greeted her and Killian that morning before they had boarded the _Nautilus_. “Princess, Captain Nemo says I should tell you that the ship, the one you arrived on, has gone,” Aziz said as he gasped for breath.

               Emma’s heart stopped. Gone? She reached out and grasped Aziz’s wrist.  “What do you mean, gone?” she snapped.

               “She left the harbor fifteen minutes ago, your Highness.“

               The _Jolly Roger_  was gone?

               Emma didn’t stop to think that she still held the young man’s wrist; she simply used her magic to take them to the harbor. The young man stumbled forward, his face ghastly grey, and fell to his knees. He retched into the harbor.

               But Emma could barely spare him the attention. She stared in horror at the empty water whether her beloved Captain’s ship had been berthed.

               The _Jolly Roger_  was, indeed, gone.  

               Panic seized her, and a flood of terrible thoughts rushed into Emma’s head, many the same as she had had a few nights previously.  But she shoved them out, gritting her teeth.

               Killian loved her! He wouldn’t leave without letting her know. Not unless he had a very, very good reason.

               Emma stood motionless in the middle of the dockside crowds, trying to think of what, exactly, those reasons would be when she spotted a familiar red cap bobbing amongst the other heads.  “Smee!” She called, and she rushed after him.

               The rotund man turned, looking confused. When he spotted her, he grinned, cheeks creasing with delight. “Lady Emma!”

               Emma reached his side and skidded to a halt. “What is going on?  Where is the _Jolly Roger?_ Where is Killian?” she asked.

               Smee sobered.  “The crew wasn’t happy to find the Captain gone this morning so they voted for a change of leadership.”

               “A mutiny?”

               Smee shrugged. “It’s the way of it, on a pirate ship.  Few Captains manage to hold the position as long as Hook did.”

               Gritting her teeth, Emma kept herself from shouting. “Smee. Where is Killian?” she asked again, calmly.  

               “Follow me,” Smee told her with a tilt of his head.

               She followed and together the two of them wove their way through the crowds until they reached the end of the dock.  There was Killian, sitting on the edge with his feet dangling just above the water, watching the _Jolly Roger_  sail off in the distance.

               “He sent me for this,” Smee said, holding up a bottle of rum.

               Emma rolled her eyes.  Of course.

               She took the bottle and made her way toward her pirate.  Pulling at the rum cork, she sat herself next to him on the dock.  Bottle opened, she took a swig, then passed it over to him. The rum was of a far inferior quality than what she had become accustomed to and it brought tears to Emma’s eyes.

               Killian took a hearty swallow, and then coughed. With a glare, he brought the bottle up for inspection.

               “This is pig’s swill,” he declared, though he still took another large gulp.

               The two of them sat in silence until the _Jolly Roger_  was a mere speck on the horizon, passing the bottle of rum between them.  When the top of the mast finally became indistinguishable from the far white waves, Killian heaved a large sigh.

               “For nearly two decades I’ve called that ship home. She was first called the _Jewel of the Realm_ ; Liam was her Captain, and I was his Lieutenant,” Killian said softly.  “After his death I took her for my own.  First as Captain Jones, scourge of the Templar Order, and then as Captain Hook.”          

               Killian said the last with a wave of his hook, and Emma had to reach out to steady him when the movement almost toppled him off the dock.  

               “I’m sorry, Killian. If it wasn’t for me, for this,” Emma waved her hand to indicate the two of them, “you would still have your ship.”

               Killian rubbed his hand across his face.  “I won’t deny that our relationship was a major factor in my crew’s discontent,” Killian admitted.  “A pirate has no loyalty to any crown.  So how could I be the Captain they needed if I carrying on with the Princess of Misthaven?”

               Emma bit her lip.  This was part of the reason it had taken her so long to confess her royal heritage.  

               Killian turned his head toward her and with a sad smile, continued, “I had already decided to going to give her up.”  As he spoke, he reached up with his hand and gently rubbed his thumb on Emma’s lip, teasing it from between her teeth.  “So don’t go blaming yourself.  My retirement from piracy has just come a bit earlier than planned.”  

               Emma stared at Killian in shock once his words registered.  “What?” she said dimly.

               Killian took another large swallow of rum before he answered her.  “I can’t court you as a pirate, love.  And since that is my intention, once this is all over, I need to stop being a pirate.”

               Tears filled Emma’s eyes. “I would never have asked you to give up your ship, not for me,” she said.

               She reached up and laid her hand on Killian’s face.  “I know,” he said with a smile. “But it’s beyond time that I step away from being Captain Hook, and return to being just Killian Jones.”

               Emma was speechless.  She’d known that their relationship was going to be difficult because of her royal status and his lawlessness, but she hadn’t expected him to be so willing to change his way of life just so he could better fit into hers. The tears in Emma’s eyes finally fell and she hastily wiped them away 

               Killian’s eyes widened in panic when he noticed her tears but Emma quickly pressed her lips against his to ensure that he knew she wasn’t upset with him.

               Their lips parted, and she looked into his eyes, swiping away her tears and smiling. “Captain Hook or Killian Jones, ship or no ship, I love you, astonishing man,” she told him firmly.

               Killian gave her a lopsided grin.

               “And I you, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting! I was apartment hunting in DE, where I’ll be moving in January, and was completely exhausted after the 5hrs of driving. 
> 
> Art for this chapter by the amazing @cocohook38


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way.

_\-----------------------------_   _\-----------------------------_

              Emma and Killian returned to the palace when the chill of the day reminded Emma had she hadn’t dressed for an extended day outdoors at the end of autumn in Arandelle.  They returned via carriage, since Emma wasn’t going to risk magic after helping Killian polish off the bottle of cheap rum, and opted to return to her room to sleep off the alcohol.  It wouldn’t do to seek an audience with the Queen, to inform her that the plan Emma had proposed that morning would need to be adapted because of the _Jolly Roger’s_  unexpected departure, when inebriated.

_\---------------------------_ _\-------------------------_

               After her nap and a quick bath, Emma sought out Elsa and the Admiral.  They were in conference with various royal advisors.

               Emma decided against interrupting.  Instead, she left a message with Elsa’s steward that she needed to speak with the Queen at her earliest convenience.  Since Killian was still sleeping off the rum, Emma opted to spend the time in the library reading a book on elemental magic. When Elsa had stopped hiding her powers, she had started to collect as many writings on elemental magic as she could find so that she could better understand her gifts. 

_\---------------------------_ _\-------------------------_

              When the temperature of the room dropped a couple of degrees, Emma knew her regal friend had found her.  When she saw that snowflakes were drifting around her friend, she suspected that the meeting hadn’t gone as well as she had hoped. Elsa sat in the chair across from Emma, and it was immediately covered in a layer of frost.

               “They aren’t completely opposed,” Elsa stated with a huff, “But most of them would like to know whether Arandelle stands to gain anything besides the goodwill of Misthaven for our assistance.”

               Emma couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Arandelle and Misthaven had had strong relations since her parent’s had ascended to the throne of the kingdom thirty years ago but Emma knew that it was one that tended to favor Misthaven more often than not.  It wasn’t surprising that Elsa’s advisors would take this opportunity to try and even the balance a little.  

               “I can’t make any promises, but I can guarantee that I will advocate strongly on the behalf of Arandelle should they wish to pursue a change to our trade agreements,” Emma informed Elsa.

               Besides the Southern Isles, which Arandelle refused to deal with anymore since Prince Han’s attempted coup, Misthaven was the small kingdom’s closest neighbor.  Most of their imports went through Emma’s kingdom’s three ports at some point.  A decrease in the taxes that the merchant’s paid to Misthaven would decrease the overall cost Arandelle paid for the imports.

               Elsa nodded. “I’ll pass that on.  Now, what did you wish to speak with me about? Your message sounded urgent.”

               “Just after I finished speaking with you and Admiral Morten, I was informed that the  _Jolly Roger_ had left port.”

               Elsa’s face shifted from one of annoyance to one of concern.  “And her Captain?” She asked hesitantly.  Emma had confided in her friend the unexpected relationship that had formed between her and Killian during the time together.

               “Remains in Arandelle and is sleeping off an excess of rum.”  Emma had suspected from the way Killian had swayed as they walked down the dock that the bottle of rum Smee had brought was not the first bit of alcohol he had had that morning.

               Elsa smiled and the frost around her began to melt. “I’m glad, for your sake.  You and he make quite a pair.”

               Emma smiled at her friend.  Elsa’s support for her and Killian’s relationship meant a lot to her.  She could only hope her parents would be just as supportive.

\---

                With Emma’s assurances of political reward, Elsa’s advisors gave their approval for the Kingdom’s involvement in Misthaven’s issues.  When the scouts the Admiral had sent out returned with news that the blockade did, in fact, extended north enough to hinder access to the cove, Emma was glad Elsa had seen fit to work on her advisor’s agreement in advance.

               The next five days were a flurry of activity as the Arandelle’s navy prepared for departure.  It was decided that the _Aquila_ , the navy’s fastest ship, would accompany the _Nautilus_  in place of the _Jolly Roger._

                 _The Aquila_  was under the command of Captain Connor Kenway.  The young man, Emma quickly learned, was the bastard son of notorious pirate Edward Kenway. Too young, she thought, be to a Captain already, but Admiral Morten had assured her that he was one of the best sailors in his Navy.  So good that the Admiral had formally adopted him as his son in order to make him a citizen of Arandelle and eligible to serve in the kingdom’s Navy.

               Even knowing all this, Emma was still hesitant to place her kingdom’s fate in his hands.  

               “I’m worried, Killian,” Emma confessed late one night.

               “About Kenway?  He’s not as green as you think, Emma,” Killian told her.  He drew her further into his arms before continuing.   “the _Jolly Roger_ faced off with  _The Aquila_  a couple of years ago.  We may have escaped their pursuit, but they put up a good fight trying to prevent that.”

               Emma laid her head on his chest.  “It’s a good plan, and the only one we have, but I felt better about it when it was you and  _The Jolly Roger_  that would be escorting the _Nautilus_  to the cove.”

                 “As did I, but at least this way, I will be aboard the _Nautilus_ with you and be able to accompany you to the castle,” Killian replied.

               That, Emma had decided, was the best outcome from Killian no longer captaining the ship that would go north with the _Nautilus_.  If they met any resistance trying to reach the cove, it would be  _The Aquila’s_  job to draw them off or engage them in battle long enough for  _The Nautilus_  to pass unseen.  Killian would be further from harm’s way, for a time, by being on the underwater vessel with her.  

               When the day came a week later for the Arandelle Navy and the _Nautilus_ to depart the northern kingdom, Emma bid a fond farewell to Elsa, Anna, and Kristof.  

               “I’ll keep Rumpelstiltskin secure until you are able to reclaim him,” Elsa informed her.  Emma had decided against bringing the sorcerer into the battle.  No matter that she held his dagger and he was thus hers to control, she was too fearful to use the power she had over him.  Not yet, at least.

               “Thank you, Elsa, for all that you have done.” Emma drew her friend into a fierce hug.

               “Don’t be afraid to return to Arandelle should things go badly,” Elsa told her.  Emma hugged her tighter in response.            

               After, she and Killian boarded  _The Nautilus_.  

               “Welcome aboard, your Highness, Captain,” Captain Nemo greeted them.  “Aziz will show you to your temporary quarters.”

               The two of them followed the young assassin, who guided them to the far end of the ship.  The quarters were small but the bed was large enough that she and Killian wouldn’t be sleeping on top of each other, so she was pleased.  

               However, they spent little time in their quarters. Instead, they were often on the bridge with Captain Nemo as the _Nautilus_ made the two day journey to the waters around the north part of Misthaven. The Arandelle Navy had gone south and would arrange outside the blockade around the port town of Margaretville.   If all went to plan, the Templars would summon ships from this area of the blockade to defend against the new arrivals.

               “How long do you think it will take for the ships here to get word that they are to travel south?” Emma asked the day after they arrived.

               Both Nemo and Killian shook their heads.  “It depends on their method of communication. If they are relying on messenger ships, it would take a couple of days.”

               “So we wait,” Emma said.

               “We wait,” Nemo agreed.

               Emma sighed in frustration.  The _Nautilus_  was keeping in contact with  _The Aquila_  via mermaid shells that both Nemo and Captain Kenway wore, which allowed instantaneous communication between the two ships.  However, because the shells were only ever given as gifts by mermaids to humans they liked, it was unlikely that the Templars had shells of their own to use.  Therefore, they would have to rely on either magical or more traditional means of communications.  

               Learning of the talking shells had reminded Emma that she had been given a set of shells strung on leather.  That night, after she dug them out of her gear, she showed them to Killian.

               “You said you were given these in Camelot?” Killian asked as he held one up for inspection.

               “When I purchased the squid ink,” Emma replied.  

               Killian hummed.  “They look like the ones I’ve seen before, but there is only one way to know for sure.”                

               Emma nodded and after looping one of the shell necklaces around her neck, left their shared quarters.  She wandered a few halls away.

               “Killian, can you hear me?” Emma said into the shell. She felt a little like an idiot.

               “That I do, love,” Killian’s reply came from the shell in her hand, sounding small.  

               “Why would the woman just give me these?” Emma asked when she returned to the room.  Killian was in the process of removing his top and she was treated to the lovely sight of his muscles rolling under his skin when he shrugged in response.

               “I try not to look gift horses in the mouth, love,” Killian said as he turned around to face her.  When he moved his hand to remove the necklace from around his neck, Emma reached up and stopped him.

               “Keep it, please.  There is no one I would rather have the other half,” Emma told him. She laid her hand on his bare chest.

               Killian grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips. “You honor me, love.”

\---

               After four days of waiting, they received word from Captain Kenway that two ships had departed the area.  After another day, two more ships left.  With those ships gone, the Templar presence in the area was decreased by half and Captain Nemo declared the area clear enough for them to make a go at the cove.

               Emma dressed in her borrowed gear in preparation. After, she and Killian joined Captain Nemo on the bridge of the _Nautilus_.  Captain Kenway kept them up to date with what was going on above the sea as the two ships headed west toward the cove.

               “The cove is in sight,” Captain Kenway’s voice said from the mermaid talking shell resting on Captain Nemo’s helm.  

               “Is the path clear?” Nemo asked.

               “It is… wait, no.  Sail spotted.”  Connor’s voice sounded stressed and Emma’s heart started beating hard in her chest.

               Captain Nemo grabbed the shell and held it in his hand as he spoke.  “What type of ship?”

               No sound came from the shell for a couple of minutes.

               “She appears to be a sloop-of-war,” Kenway finally said.  “A well armored one, with red sails.”

               Emma felt Killian tense next to her and she looked up to see him frowning.  

               “Connor, does the ship have any other distinguishing markings?” Nemo asked into the shell.

               More silence followed.

               “She is outfitted with a large ram on her front,” Kenway eventually replied.

               Killian’s frown deepened.  He approached Nemo and held out his hand.  Nemo passed over the shell.  

               “Kenway, can you see the figure head?” Killian said into the shell.

               “It is in the shape of a wolf,” Kenway answered.

               Killian closed his eyes and sighed.  “I suggest you retreat.  That ship may be the  _Morrigan_.”

\---

               “The  _Morrigan_?” Captain Nemo asked as Killian passed him back the shell. “Are you sure?”

              “I’ll need to see for myself to be sure,” Killian replied.

              Captain Nemo nodded and ordered his men to bring  _The Nautilus_  to the surface.  The process took a bit, so Killian took a seat on one of the benches and leaned his head back against the cold metal of the wall.

               _Why would the Morrigan be here?_

              The ship was easily the most formidable in the Templar’s service, so why would it be stationed guarding some out of the way area?  

              “You served on the _Morrigan_ , didn’t you?” Emma whispered to him, interrupting his thoughts.

              Killian gave a small nod.  Emma’s hand moved to his shoulder and gently rubbed at the tense muscles there.  Her touch calmed his nerves some.

              Once Nemo informed him that the top of the underwater ship was clear of the sea, Aziz escorted Killian above.  

              It was a clear day and Killian squinted in the bright sun.  It had been days since he’d left the confines of the _Nautilus._   Once his eyes had adjusted, Killian pulled out his spyglass and pointed it toward the ship to the west.  It took him only a moment to confirm his suspicions.

               Without a doubt, the ship was the _Morrigan._

The sight of the ship caused memories of his life aboard to flood Killian’s mind and the scars on his back itched in response.

               “Plague seize you, Cormac, what are you doing here?” Killian cursed as he stowed his spyglass back in his coat.  He returned to the bridge with a sick feeling in his stomach.  

               “It’s definitely the _Morrigan_ ,” Killian stated.

               Captain Nemo dropped his head forward and sighed.

               “We need to withdraw,” Killian told him.  “The  _Aquila_  cannot face the _Morrigan_ in battle without being destroyed.”

               The Captain picked up the mermaid shell and relayed the message to Captain Kenway.  In his reply, Kenway suggest they meet at the island a few leagues to the east that  _The Aquila_  had spotted earlier in the day.

               After setting the course to the island, Captain Nemo turned to Killian with an inscrutable expression on his face.   Killian wasn’t at all surprised when the Captain asked him, “How are you so familiar with the _Morrigan,_  Hook?”

               Killian quickly glanced about the room.  Besides himself, Emma, and Nemo, there were half a dozen crewmembers on the bridge.  Though he’d been on the ship for over a week and had become relatively friendly with Nemo’s crew, he wasn’t sure how they would react to finding out about his Templar past.

               “Let’s just say that Captain Cormac and I have a history,” Killian told Nemo.  

              Killian hoped the other man would be satisfied with that answer for the time being.

              Nemo frowned, but he didn’t press for a more complete answer on what type of history.

              “I hope that history will be helpful in coming up with a plan to get around the  _Morrigan_  or this mission will need to be abandoned.”

\---

               The crews of the _Nautilus_  and the _Aquila_  made camp on the small island Kenway suggested while Captain Nemo, Emma, Killian, Captain Kenway, and his first mate, Robert Faulker, met to discuss the situation on the bridge of  _The Nautilus_.

               Kenway was unhappy with Killian’s insistence that  _The Aquila_  was no match for the _Morrigan_.

                “If the _Morrigan_ is outfitted even half as well as the _Queen Anne’s Revenge_  was, she’ll have more firepower than your ship can even carry,” Killian informed Kenway.

               “That means she’ll be weighed down.   _The Aquila_  is small and fast.  If we keep moving, we can out maneuver the _Morrigan_  and slowly wear her down,” he argued back.

               Killian roll his eyes.  “the _Morrigan_ was outfitted with steel plate over 20 years ago.  It would take days for  _The Aquila_ to do enough damage to render her immobile.”  

               The younger Captain glared at him.  Kenway opened his mouth to reply, but his first mate laid a hand on his arm and shook his head at his Captain.  

               “So we can’t outfight the _Morrigan_ ,” Emma interjected.  “Is there a way we can sneak past her?”

               “She was directly in front of the entrance to the cove.  There is no way to get past her without being seen,” Kenway answered.

               Emma turned her attention to the other Captain and asked, “Nemo, do you know how close you can get to the Templar ships without them detecting the _Nautilus?_ ”

               Nemo’s forehead creased in thought.  “A quarter of a mile, I believe.”

               On a map of the area, Killian lightly sketched  _The Morrigan’s_  location in relation to the cove and a circle to represent a quarter mile circumference around her. He frowned as he studied it.

               “Could we draw her away from the cove?” Faulker asked. “If we attack and then retreat, won’t she give chase?”

               Killian snorted and looked up from his map. “Captain Cormac will see that for the ploy it is.  He’s a smart man.  I bet he’s ignored orders to go south because he suspects that the attack by Arandelle’s navy is some kind of distraction.  If so, he’ll be prepared for some kind of attack.”

               “He wouldn’t attack another Templar ship, though,” Kenway eventually said.  “Captain Nemo, do you have any flags you’ve taken from a Templar ship?  With it raised, we could sail right up to the _Morrigan_.  Once close enough, we could attack, which would distract her from the _Nautilus_  sailing into the cove.”

               Killian gaped at the man.  “That’s suicide.  Everyman on the _Aquila_  would be killed.”

               Kenway rolled his shoulders before saying, “I know.”

               The room was silent until Emma spoke. “Absolutely not,” she said in a forceful tone.  “Under no circumstances will I allow you or your men to undertake such a dangerous mission on my behalf.”

               Kenway turned to Killian, obviously seeking assistance, but he shook his head.  This was Emma’s mission and therefore, her decision.  He wouldn’t do her the injustice of trying to change her mind.  

              The young Captain sighed and Nemo patted him on the shoulder in a fatherly manner.

              “You’re idea does have some merit, though,” Captain Nemo told him.  “With a Templar flag raised, the _Morrigan_  should let the _Aquila_  approach.  We can use that to our advantage.  The question is, how?”    

              Killian tapped his hook on the table as he thought about the situation. What would distract Cormac and his crew enough that it would allow the _Nautilus_  to pass into the cove?  

              An attack, yes, but not without great loss of life on their side.  

              “When I sailed on the _Morrigan_ , Cormac was a fan of leaving trails of burning oil to slow any ships in pursuit,” Killian mused.  “Which was one reason she is so heavily armored; one shot into the hold where it is stored and the ship would be engulfed in flames.”

              “He still uses the same tactics,” Nemo told him.

              Killian grinned and continued, “Once the two ships are close, it shouldn’t be hard for a couple of people to sneak aboard the _Morrigan_  and ignite the oil.”

              “And the _Aquila_?  Won’t she be in danger of being caught up in the flames?” Kenway asked, frowning.

              “It’s a risk, but if she is as fast as you say she is, the _Aquila_  should have ample time to sail far enough away to avoid any damage,” Killian replied.  

              “And the men who sneak board the _Morrigan?_ ” Emma inquired.  “Will they have enough time to escape back to the _Aquila?_ ”

              “We can rig the oil with slow-burning wicks. That would give us a couple of minutes to get off the ship, but not much,” Killian admitted.  “If we can’t make it back, we would need to jump overboard and swim for shore.”

              Emma’s eyes narrowed.  “We?”

              Realizing he was in trouble, Killian scratched behind his ear.  He turned to the other three men and asked if he and Emma could have a moment of privacy.  All of them readily agreed and left the bridge, closing the door securely behind them.

               Killian grabbed Emma’s hand in his own and pulled her toward him.  She didn’t resist, but she also didn’t relax into his embrace as she normally did.

              “Emma, I’m the only one here familiar with the layout of the _Morrigan_. It only makes sense that I be one of the people to go aboard,” Killian explained.

              Emma’s lips pursed.  “You can draw them a map.”

              “And if Cormac moved the oil to somewhere new?  They would have no idea where to look next,” he argued.  “I will.”

              Emma stared at him for a moment and then sighed.  Her head dropped and thumped against his chest.  

              “I don’t like it,” she muttered.

              Killian kissed the top of her soft hair.  “Neither do I, but it’s the only plan we have.”

\---

              Killian chose three of the Brotherhood trained sailors from among Nemo’s crew to accompany him onto the _Morrigan_.  He spent the rest of the afternoon with them going over the plan with them while Emma consulted with the Assassin’s who would be traveling overland with her to the castle once they made it to the cove.  

              Nemo had brought out some Templar uniforms for Killian and his chosen crewmembers to wear when sneaking aboard the _Morrigan_.  Despite their separate activities, Emma had a hard time keeping her eyes off Killian.  

              He looked dangerous, dressed in the black frockcoat and red vest of a Templar Captain.  

              Unlike his normal heavy leather, which hid Killian’s lean build, this outfit highlighted it.  The leather straps that crossed his chest and the sharp angles of the cut emphasized his broad shoulders.  

              Even though he was dressed in the uniform of her enemy, she wouldn’t help but feel a flutter low in her stomach at how attractive he looked in it.  

              Between that and the knowledge that this could very well be the last night she and Killian would be able to spend together, Emma was keyed up by the time she returned to their quarters on the _Nautilus_  that night.  Killian must have felt something as well, because as soon as the door closed behind them, he pulled her into his arms and forcibly pressed his lips to hers.

              Teeth knocked as lips fought for dominance. Emma roughly shoved the Templar coat off Killian’s shoulders and made quick work of the vest.  At the same time, Killian wasted no time in removing the Assassin garments Elsa’s seamstress had thoroughly repaired that Emma had returned to wearing once they had left Arandelle.

              The coat had caught on Killian’s brace and hindered Emma’s removal of the top below.  Being the last layer of clothing that hid her lover’s bare chest from her, Emma grasped the two sides of the collar and pulled until the thin fabric ripped down the middle.  

              Killian started to laugh but it quickly turned into a loud moan when Emma latched her lips around one of his nipples.  He worked on getting himself out of the remaining clothes while Emma moved onto his other nipple but continued to tease the first with her fingers.  After a bit, Killian’s fingers wove into her hair and pulled her away from his chest.

              His arms wrapped around Emma, gripped her bottom, and lifted her.  She wrapped her legs around him as he walked forward to lay her on their bed.  She lifted her lower half and pressed herself against his trapped erection.

              She continued to grind herself against him as Killian made quick work of her waistcoat.  He, considerately, took the time to properly remove her top.  He buried his face in her breasts and his scruff scratched along the soft skin.

              Emma worked at the belts securing Killian’s trousers.  When she had them undone, she used her feet to push them down his hips.  They caught on the top of his high boots and Emma growled.  Killian rolled off her and pulled his boots off.  At the same time, Emma removed her own boots and trousers.

              Both of them now naked, Emma climbed atop Killian.  She pressed her lips to his as she lined his cock up and slid down onto him.  They both moaned.  Emma would never tire of how Killian felt within her.

               Killian began to pump his hips and Emma rocked hers to match his pace.  Her breasts swung with each movement and Killian lifted his head so that he could sweep his tongue along her nipples with each swing.

               As she felt her orgasm near, Emma moved one of her hands between the two of them and rubbed at her clit.  Killian’s hand on her hips braced her as he increased the pace of his pumps.  When her climax crested, Emma dropped her head, buried it in Killian’s shoulder and bit down on the muscle there.  Killian groaned.

               In the aftermath of her orgasm, Emma collapsed forward, her heart beating wildly in her chest.  

              “We’re not done yet, Swan,” Killian said with a laugh.  With a roll of his hips, he turned the two of them over.  He undid her legs from where they were wrapped around his waist and pushed them back until he could secure them over his shoulders.

               This was not a position she and Killian had had sex in before, but Emma resolved that this would not be the last time, either. She quickly found herself cresting to the peak of another orgasm.  

               Emma grabbed Killian by the hair and dragged his head down to hers.  His hips began to move erratically and Emma knew that he was close to his own climax.

               Emma caught his lips in a passionate kiss. Her climax hit and she bit down on his bottom lip.  She tasted blood.

               Killian groaned and his hips stilled within her as he found his own release.  Emma could feel his cock twitching within her.  Killian rested his forehead against hers for a moment before rolling off her. Emma immediately cuddled into his side, headless of the way their skin stuck together with sweat.  She rested her head on his chest, just above his heart.

              “Did I ever tell you that my father isn’t really royalty?” Emma asked.  It seemed like an odd topic to bring up, after just having sex, but she had a point she wanted to make.

              Killian lifted his head to look at Emma, his face twisted in confusion. “Isn’t your father the son of King George?”

               “Nope,” Emma said and proceeded to tell Killian the tale of how her father, David, had been forced to pretend to be his twin, James, who had been raised as King George’s son after he had died.   How he met her mother when she’d robbed his carriage and how the two of them had battled against their feelings before finally giving in.

               “This does not make me any less terrified to meet your parents, Emma,” Killian told her once she had finished.

               Emma laughed and lifted her head.  “I didn’t tell you this so you’ll be intimidated by them.”

               “Oh?”

               “I just want you to know that while my mother was born a Princess, she chose to marry a shepherd and she did so because she loved him,” Emma told Killian as she laid her hand on his cheek.  “So while we’re apart, try not to panic too much about how we’re going to be together after all this is over.  I may be a Princess and you a pirate, but that doesn’t matter.  I love you, Killian Jones, and regardless of what anyone may think, I’ve chosen you, and people will just have to deal with that.”

               After Emma finished, Killian just stared at her before eventually giving her a wide grin.

               “I love you too, Emma,” he said before he pressed his lips to hers.

               The kiss intensified and Emma felt Killian’s manhood begin to stir against her thigh.

               “Already?” She asked with a chuckle.

               Killian grinned.  “With you, love, anything is possible.”

\---

               The next morning, Emma woke before Killian for once.  It was still early, based on how quiet the ship was, and she spent some time just starting at her lover.  Her heart clenched at the thought of never seeing him again, if their missions didn’t go as planned, and her eyes filled with tears.  She tried to muffle the sniffles that followed, but when she felt Killian’s hand gently teasing out the knots in her hair, she knew she had failed.

               “I know what you’re thinking about, love, but I promise you, we will see each other again,” Killian murmured.

               Emma pressed her face to his chest.  “You can’t know that,” she whimpered.

               Killian lifted her head so that she was looking at him.

               “I have faith in you, Emma.  I know that you will succeed in freeing your parents and home from Regina’s control,” Killian told her.  “Please believe me when I say that I have no intention of dying today.”

               “I do believe you, Killian, I do!  But whatever we intend, the world often has a way of doing whatever it wants, regardless.”

               Killian hummed in response.  “I agree.  After all, I didn’t intend to fall in-love with an Assassin, one who is also Misthaven’s Royal Princess.  Nevertheless, I did, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that I return to you once this is done.”

               Emma closed her eyes to hold back a new wave of tears and pressed her lips to Killian’s.  The kiss started out slow, but quickly gained in intensity, and Emma soon found herself on her back below Killian.  He settled himself between her thighs and gradually entered her.  When he began to move, he did so with a torturously slow pace.  Emma whined and tried to spur him into moving faster by pressing on his ass with her heels, but he only chuckled and continued his steady movements.

               “I have fucked you many times, Emma, but this morning…” Killian whispered in her year, “Allow me to make love to you.”

               At those words, Emma gave up her fight and allowed Killian to do as he wanted.  

               And she was glad she did.

               By the time the two of them left their quarters for breakfast a few hours later, Emma had experienced more pleasure than she thought was possible.  Killian was a skilled lover, but he had been extra attentive to her that morning.  He had made love to her, as he had said he wanted to and Emma was beyond thankful for it.  Though her muscles were sore, she no longer felt the overwhelming levels of worry that she had that morning.

               After breakfast, Killian dressed once more in the stolen Templar outfit and Emma helped him buckle the leather straps across his chest without him needing to ask.

               Before she finished, though, Killian reached through his collar and removed one of the necklaces from around his neck.  He held it up for Emma to see.  On it was strung a silver ring set with a red jewel, which she remembered toying with the night before.

               “This ring was Liam’s and is one of the few things of his I have left,” Killian said as he looped necklace over Emma’s head. “Take this with you and every time you begin to worry, remember that there is one thing I am good at and that’s surviving.”

               Emma nodded, unable to speak, and grasp the ring in her hand while she gave him one final kiss before he left to board  _The Aquila._   She tucked Killian’s ring under top and it bumped against her breastbone with every step she took as she made her way to the bridge of  _The Nautilus_.

               “Everything is ready, your Highness,” Captain Nemo told her as she joined him at the large window.  So little light penetrated this deep into the sea that Emma couldn’t see anything beyond the few fish swimming right in front of the glass.

               “Then let us be off, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late post! I forgot...


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way.

_\-----------------------------_    _\-----------------------------_

              “Captain Nemo told me that Shay Cormac was once an Assassin,” Killian told Kenway as the  _Aquila_  neared the area where they had spotted the _Morrigan_  the day before.   “That he was trained by some of the best men and woman the Brotherhood ever had.”    

              Kenway nodded as he retrieved the Templar flag Nemo had provided and ordered one of his men to raise it.  

              “We cannot underestimate him and he may attack before we get close enough to execute our plan,” Killian continued.  “If that happens, I need to know that you are committed to seeing this mission through, Captain Kenway.” He stared straight into the eyes of the young Captain as he finished.

              Kenway’s dark eyes stared right back.  “I’m no coward, Hook.  This may not be Arandelle’s fight, but Her Majesty has ordered me to do everything I can to see that Princess Emma has every chance of rescuing her family. Regardless of the danger.”

              Killian smiled.  Even though Edward Kenway hadn’t had much influence in his son’s life, Killian could see the same stubbornness and pride in the younger Kenway that Killian respected in the elder.

              “I’ll distract Captain Cormac as long as I can,” Kenway said, reaching up to pull at the collar of his vest.  Like Killian, he was also dressed in a Templar uniform. This was in order to fool Cormac into believing that a member of The Order had captured the _Aquila._

              Satisfied with Kenway’s answer, Killian went below to the gun deck.  There, the three Assassin’s he had recruited from Nemo’s crew, two men and one woman, waited.  Illya, the eldest of the group, was a stoic man who had been with the Assassins for nearly thirty years.  He reminded Killian of Starkey, which was one reason he had chosen the man for this mission. The other was that Nemo had assured him that Illya was an excellent fighter in close quarters, though Killian hoped their mission wouldn’t come to that.  The other two members of his team were a set of twins a few years younger than Emma, Ciaran and Siobhan, who were supposedly from a small kingdom near Camelot that Killian had never heard of.  Regardless of their origins, Siobhan had a talent for passing unobserved and Ciaran was reputed to have never met a lock he couldn’t pick.  Both were talents Killian needed.

              “We should be nearing the _Morrigan_ soon,” Killian told them.  Illya nodded, his face serious, but the twins grinned at his words.  

              The four of them waited on the gun deck for the _Aquila_  to get close enough to the _Morrigan_  for them to sneak aboard. Killian had to mentally remind himself to breathe the whole time, nervous that Cormac would decide to fire on the unknown vessel approaching.  No cannon fire came, though, and when the _Aquila_  had drawn abreast with the other ship, he led his team to the bow.  

              They had moved one of the forward facing cannons out of the way earlier and one by one, they climb out of the porthole and moved along the hull of the ship toward the bowsprit.  The _Aquila’s_  bow was positioned next to the _Morrigan’s_  stern, where the Captain’s Cabin was located.  Cormac would be on deck, speaking with Kenway, so his cabin would most likely be empty.

             Illya was the first to make the jump from the hull of the _Aquila_  to the _Morrigan_  and once he had knocked the glass out of one of the windows, he climbed through into the room beyond.  He would take care of anyone unexpected.  The signal that the room was clear came and Killian, followed by the twins, boarded the _Morrigan._

             Killian gestured the rug-covered floor in front of the large desk that dominated the room. “The trapdoor is under here,” Killian told them.  Since the rug was nailed down, so that it didn’t shift during rough water, Killian made a large slice down the middle of it with a dagger.  Illya assisted in widening the opening once they located the exact location of the door.  

             The trap door led to a small, empty room with two, locked, portholes.  This was where crewmen would either drop barrels of the flammable oil into the sea for pursuing ships to run into, or pour oil onto the water for another to ignite with a flaming arrow once the _Morrigan_  was a safe distance away.  However, no oil was stored in this room.  It was all kept on the bottom level of the ship, below the waterline, where they were safe from any cannon fire.  There was, however, a bundle of the long, slow burning wicks that were sometimes used with the barrels and Killian pocketed it.  Using them would give them more time to escape the _Morrigan_  before the fire overtook the ship.

              Ciaran crouched in front of the keyhole of the door. “I don’t see anyone on the deck beyond,” he told them.  

              Killian smiled.  He had been hoping that the hold would be empty of crewmen.  They were all likely manning the cannons on the gun deck, which would make their mission easier.  Though they were dressed as Templar officers and most of the low-level sailors would ignore any officer they could, he didn’t want to risk someone looking to closely at them.

              “Let’s go, than,” he said and the four of them made their way out of the small room.  They proceeded directly down the stairs that led to the lower level of the hold. It took Ciaran a minute to unlock the room where Killian remembered the barrels of oil being kept and his heart beat loudly in his chest as he waited.   Once the door was open, Killian lit the wick of one of the hanging lanterns and carefully entered the room.      

             Two dozen barrels of oil were stacked carefully against the walls, thick pads of cotton keeping them from knocking together.

             While she was gone, the three of them carefully inserted the wicks Killian had found earlier into the barrels.  They wove the wicks of adjacent barrels together with lengths of fast burning cotton fabric.  They then braided the cotton strips together until they had a long rope.

             By Killian’s estimate, the process of preparing the barrels took around fifteen minutes.  When Siobhan hadn’t returned ten minutes after they had finished, he began to get nervous.  He was about to order Ciaran to go check on his sister, but he was interrupted by the sound of boot on the stairway outside the door.

             Killian barely had time to pull his sword before nearly half-dozen men began to flood into the small room.  He and Illya rushed forward and skewered the first men they men. Together, they pushed, forcing the group of men to step backward or topple over.  They kept pushing until the doorway was clear and the door slammed shut behind them.  

             Ciaran was still inside.  The young Assassin would barricade the door against the crew and then light the braided wick.  That would give Illya, Killian, and Siobhan, if she still lived, five minutes to escape the ship.  

             Five minutes.  

             Pushing Ciaran’s fate from his mind, Killian fought against the Templar sailors. He and Illya were almost finished with the original six men when a dozen more came down the stairs and overwhelmed them.  A knock to the head with the hilt of a sword sent Killian face first onto the deck.  His sword was tore from his hand as his arms were wrenched behind his back. He heard a familiar click when his hook was removed from his brace.

             “Bring them above.  Captain will want to deal with this himself,” an unfamiliar voice said and Killian’s shoulders strained as he was pulled to his feet.  Killian glanced at Illya and was glad to see that the man was still alive, though he was bleeding profusely from a cut on his forehead.  

             Killian didn’t resist as he was pushed toward the stairs by his captor.   He wanted to be as far from the oil as he could get before it ignited.  Once on deck, he blinked as his eyes adjusted. When he could see again, he saw that the _Aquila_  was still next to the _Morrigan_ , and that there were dozens Templar’s sailors milling about its deck.

             Things had not gone as planned.

             Four minutes.

             Captain Kenway and three of his officers were bound and kneeling in front of the mast.  Captain Shay Cormac stood in front of him, his sword held loose in his hand.

             There was no sign on Siobhan.

             “Captain, we found these men below deck,” one of his and Illya’s captors said as they were marched forward.  

             Shay Cormac turned and when Killian’s eyes met his, he felt a pulse of hatred. Cormac had been the one to convince Liam that joining the Templar Order would be the best for the two brothers.  It had been he, years later, which had suggested Liam as Captain for the voyage to Neverland.  If it hadn’t been for him, Liam would not have died, blindly convinced that the Dreamshade they had been sent to retrieve was medicine and not a deadly poison as Killian had learned.

             “Killian Jones,” Cormac said with a sharp laugh. “So the rumors are true, you have returned from the dead!”

             Killian stayed silent as the Templar Captain circled him, though he was disturbed by what Cormac had said.  He had gone to great pains to prevent the knowledge of his survival from reaching the Templars.  He was disheartened to hear that it finally had.

             “Captain, they were outside the hold where the oil is stored,” a crewman said as he handed Cormac Killian’s hook.

             He held Killian’s hook in one hand, studying it for a moment before pressing its sharp tip to the underside of Killian’s jaw. “Are there any more of you?”

             Killian stared straight ahead and refused to answer. Cormac pressed harder and Killian could feel blood running down his neck.  

             “Are there any more of you?”  He asked again.  

             Killian lunched forward and his forehead connected with Cormac’s nose with a satisfying crack.  A blow to the back of his knees sent Killian forward onto the deck until someone pulled him up by his hair.  He smirked when he saw that Cormac’s nose was streaming blood.

             “Get the hold open,” he ordered some of his men before he turned his attention back to Killian.

             Three minutes.

             “Did you know The Order still has a bounty of 1,000 gold doubloons on your head, even after all these years?” Cormac asked.

             “Only 1,000?” Killian quipped, unable to help himself.  “How disappointing.”  

             Cormac laughed.  “You’d think the murderer of a Templar Grandmaster would be worth 2,000, at least, but I doubt Regina really cares if you’re brought to justice or not. After all, your actions allowed her to assume power.  She should really be thanking you.”

             Killian rolled his eyes.  The idea of Regina thanking anyone was absurd.

             “Tell me, Killian, did you really think I would fall for such an obvious ruse?”  Cormac asked.

             “I was hoping you had gotten slow in your old age.”

             Cormac snorted.  “Even an initiate would have seen through this ploy.”

             Killian shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t care.

             “I’m disappointed.  I thought I had taught you better,” Cormac remarked.

             “Your memories starting to go, old man,” Killian snarled.  “Liam was the one who actually cared about anything you tried to teach us.  I spent most of my time aboard this ship either scrubbing the deck or bleeding on it.”  

             “You did spend a lot of time under my whip, didn’t you?” Cormac mused.  He brought the hook to Killian’s face and traced the scar that adorned his left cheek.  

             Two minutes.    

             A wicked grin spread across Cormac’s face and he turned toward one of his crew.  “Get my whip.”

             Two men grabbed Killian’s arms and dragged him backwards.  Killian struggled against them, but more crewmen joined them and forced him against the mast.  Just as an iron manacle was about to close over his wrist, the _Morrigan_ lurched underfoot.  

             Killian fell to the deck and felt a wave of heat pass over him.  Ciaran had either speed up the ignition of the oil or Cormac’s crew had inadvertently ignited it when trying to get into the hold. Either way, the _Morrigan_ would soon be engulfed in flames and heading to the bottom of Davy Jone’s Locker.

             He stumbled to his feet.  Crewmen were running about, hauling buckets from the sea and tossing them on the rapidly spreading fire while Cormac yelled orders from the quarterdeck.  No one cared about him or his compatriots anymore; they had a bigger problem to deal with.  Killian grabbed a stray sword from the deck and made his way over to Captain Kenway and the others.  He quickly cut their bonds.  

             They rushed back toward the _Aquila._ The flames hadn’t spread to the other ship, yet, and there was still a chance she could escape going down with the _Morrigan_.

             Out of nowhere, Siobhan appeared, Ciaran over her shoulder.  He helped her get her brother onto the _Aquila_.  Though parts of his clothes were burned, Killian was glad to see that the young man was still alive.

             Killian was cutting the lines holding the _Aquila_  in place when one of the sailors from the _Morrigan_  attacked.

             “Traitor!” The man screamed as he swung a sword at Killian’s head.

             Killian ducked the attack with ease and countered with one of his own.  He had the man disarmed and up against the rail within moments.  Just as he was about to give the man the option of dying then or burning to death, Killian felt someone approaching from behind.  With his sword still at the one sailor’s throat, Killian turned and lashed out with his hook.

\-----

             The young man, who Killian guessed to be no older than he himself had been when he sailed on the _Morrgan,_ froze, one hand raised.  “I don’t want to die,” the lad cried out.

             After a moment of thought, Killian quirked his head toward the _Aqulia_  and the lad quickly scrambled over the rails and onto the other ship.  Killian made to follow but a sharp yank on the hood of his coat pulled him off balance and he fell to the deck of the ship.  

             Captain Shay Cormac stood above him and the man stabbed downward with his sword at Killian’s chest.  Killian rolled and the tip of Cormac’s sword impaled the wood instead. Killian hauled himself to his feet as Cormac yanked it free with a growl.  

             The infuriated Captain attacked again. Killian caught the blade with his hook and sword.  The maneuver brought him and Cormac toe to toe.

             “Revenge after all these years, Jones?” Cormac spat out as he tried to dislodge his sword.

             “Nothing personal, actually.  Your ship just happens to be in the way,” Killian said with a shrug.

             The deck of the _Morrigan_  rolled under his feet. The ship started to tilt, which told Killian that it was starting to sink.  He needed to get off the _Morrigan_  before it was too late.

             Cormac pulled his sword free with a heave and Killian sidestepped in the direction of the rail.  Normally, he’d avoid a positon that kept him from the open deck during a fight, but his goal was escape, not winning the fight.  

             Cormac, though, seemed to have predicted this and did his best to prevent Killian from getting too close to the rail.

             “If I’m going down with the ship, so are you!” Cormac snarled as he attacked.

             Killian countered.  His sword came close to piercing the Cormac through the shoulder but the other man dodged at the last moment.  Killian stumbled forward.  Cormac took advantage of the opportunity and the tip of his sword sliced through the layers Killian wore and into his back.  Killian hissed through his teeth in pain.

             He spun and slashed wildly with his sword.  It slashed across Cormac’s face.  The man stepped back, his cheek dripping blood. He pressed his hand to his face and stared at the blood on his fingers when he pulled it away.

             “If I’m to die, answer me one thing first: Who told you I was still alive?” Killian asked.  

             He had gone to great pains to prevent the knowledge of his survival from reaching the Templars and he was disheartened to hear that it finally had. It would also put Emma at risk if the Templars renewed their interest in killing him in revenge.

             “There have been rumors for years, truthfully, but no one believed them. Not until an agent in Camelot sent a very convincing message,” Cormac answered.  

             Camelot…

             Cormac attacked again before Killian could contemplate who in Camelot had betrayed Emma.   The _Morrigan_ lurched and Cormac lost his footing.  This gave Killian an opening and he rushed forward.  His sword slid into Cormac’s stomach until his hilt pressed against the man’s gut.  Cormac looked down, blinking.

             Killian he pulled this sword free and Cormac fell to the deck.  He coughed and blood poured from the wound.  Killian had thought that seeing one of the tormentors from his past dying would bring him pleasure, but as he looked at the dying man, he didn’t feel anything.  

             The  _Morrigan_ pitched underfoot and Killian decided it was well past time he get off the foundering ship.

             “May Poseidon keep you,” Killian murmured as he walked past Cormac.  The other captain glared at him, but otherwise did not move.

             With the assistance of a shroud that had miraculously not yet burned, Killian hauled himself up to stand on the rail of the ship. He studied the waters below in search for a place free of debris for him to dive into.  He spotted one that would work and prepared to jump, but a sharp pain ripped through his side.  

             Killian tumbled off his perch with barely had enough time maneuver his body to protect his injured side before he hit the water.  Regardless, his still healing ribs flared with pain at his hard landing and the air was knocked from his lungs.  Killian struggled to catch his breath as waves caused by the sinking  _Morrigan_  washed over his head.  All he got was seawater, which burned in his lungs and the edges of his vision began to darken.  

_I’m sorry, Emma._

—

             Unable to be still, Emma paced the bridge of the _Nautilus_.  It was akin to torture, Emma decided, that there was no way of them knowing what was happening on the sea above without Kenway telling them through the mermaid shell. However, the other Captain had gone silent once his ship had drawn close to the _Morrigan_ , with promise to contact them again when it was safe for the  _Nautilus_  to head toward the cove. She and Killian had decided it was best he not use his shell to communicate with her until he had completed his part of the mission, but she was now regretting that decision.

             While they waited, Emma’s mind had been supplying her with images of the worst possible outcomes as time passed.

             What if the _Morrigan_  had attacked the _Aquila_  despite the Templar flag?

             Or if Killian and his team had been unable to rig the oil for a delayed ignition, something he had assured her could be done, and both ships had been destroyed?  Or been caught when they first snuck aboard the ship and had been killed?

             Emma was rounding the area where Captain Nemo stood when the sound of someone coughing emitted from the mermaid shell. She immediately stopped, her heart sinking in her chest.  

             “Go, go now!” Came Kenway’s panicked sounding voice once the coughing had subsided.  

             Captain Nemo wasted no time in following the instructions.

             “Kenway, what happened?” Nemo asked into the shell once the  _Nautilus_  was moving forward to the cove.

             More coughing came through the shell, but no answer.

             Nemo sighed.  “We continue as planned,” he said, looking at his crew, who nodded in response.

             He turned to her last.  “We cannot afford to deviate from the plan.”

             In her mind, Emma knew Nemo spoke the truth, but her heart was screaming at her that they should go and see what had become of those aboard the  _Aquila_.  She fought back tears as she stood in front of the window. She could see very little of the ocean beyond, except for a couple of fish.  

             When the _Nautilus_  surfaced, Emma rushed out of the ship and onto land at the first opportunity.  She turned and looked out toward the entrance of the cove, where she saw a ship in flames. That was, the bow of the ship was burning, but the stern was already below water.

             “That’s the _Morrigan,_ ” Aziz said as he pointed toward the figurehead on the ship. Emma jerked at his sudden appearance. She cursed herself for having been too absorb in the sight of the burning ship to notice his approach.  She couldn’t afford to be distracted.

             “I don’t see the _Aquila_ ,” Aziz continued, “She must have gotten away.”

             Emma hoped that was the case.  But if it was, why hadn’t Kenway contacted them again?

             “Once I determine what has become of the _Aquila_ , I’ll take the _Nautilus_  south to Blanchard.  If I can, I’ll draw a ship or two stationed there away,” Captain Nemo had told her as they said their goodbyes.  He had agreed to her request that he search the area around the _Morrigan_ for any survivors.  Though Emma didn’t care about the Templar sailors, she was worried about Killian and his team and the idiotic plan to swim to shore if they couldn’t make it back to the _Aquila_.

             Content as she could be with the situation, Emma led her team of twenty Assassin’s toward the smuggler tunnels carved into the cliffs.  It took them nearly two hours to climb the winding tunnel the smugglers had created to move their illicit goods.  It was well constructed and Emma felt a twinge of regret that she would need to inform her parents of its existence once they had retaken her kingdom. Perhaps she would pardon the smugglers themselves, but she couldn’t allow them to continue their operation.

             It was midday when she reached the top of the cliffs and Emma once again looked out to the cove.  The _Morrigan_ was gone; a few bits of debris floated on the surface where she had been.  

             She would remain a permanent addition decorating the floor of the cove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made Cocohook38's amazingly beautiful art extra big because it is just. SO. AWESOME.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way.

_\-----------------------------_   _\-----------------------------_

 

              Emma sat on the high branch of a tree, her eyes on the Royal Castle of Misthaven.  She had been there for hours, contemplating the best means of retaking her longtime home without getting killed in the process.

              Her parents had taken the castle by turning the locals against King George and driving him out; Queen Regina through a combination of surprise, magic, and military might.  Emma didn’t have time for the first, nor the manpower for the second.  

              Her best bet would be to take the castle from the inside.  As a child, Emma had explored every inch of the Royal Castle of Misthaven.  She knew every nook and cranny of the old stone fortress.  She’d been twelve years old when she discovered the hidden passageway behind the kitchen’s fireplace that lead to the library.  Fifteen when she had first used it to sneak out for a rendezvous with one of the grooms who worked in the stables.

              Regrettably, there were no secret passages that led off the island on which it was built.  The only way on or off the grounds was by the long bridge that connected it to the mainland.  

              “Just like Camelot,” Emma muttered to herself. Except this time, there was no ball to use as cover, or sexy pirate captain watching her back.  She had twenty of the most highly trained Assassins in all the realms but she would feel more confident on her chances of success if Killian was there with her.

              Emma grasped the mermaid shell she wore.  Two days had passed since the events at the cove and she hadn’t heard from Killian.  She had tried to use the shell to communicate with Captain Nemo, to ask if he had located  _The Aquila_ , but she had received no response.  Emma theorized that her shell could only communicate with the one Killian wore.  

              Romantic, in a way, but inconvenient.  

              When night began to fall and Emma could no longer see the movement of the guards on the bridge, she climbed down from the tree and headed back toward the camp her group had set up.  She joined Aziz at the fire and absorbed its heat.  

              She’d left Misthaven nearly three months ago, at the beginning of autumn, and had returned to find it in the grips of an early winter.  The trees of the forest protected them from the worst of the snow and wind, but they still had to contend with the blistering cold of the season.  The frozen ground made for an uncomfortable bed as well.  Once again, she wished Killian was with her.  He always seemed to be warm, no matter the weather.

              Emma shook her head to clear her mind.  She had a mission to plan and thoughts of Killian would only distract her.

              She picked up a stick and sketched a quick drawing of the castle and the surrounding area in the dirt.  She was making notations about guard movements when Aziz handed her a bowl of rabbit stew.

              “Thank you,” she said through a mouthful of food. The stew was surprisingly good. Some of her group must have found some herbs to make the dish more flavorful.  It was a huge improvement over the bland, roasted boar they had the night before.

              Aziz sat down next to her.  “Work anything out yet?” He asked as he studied what Emma had drawn.

              “Not one I like,” Emma admitted, “but that seems to be the trend with every situation I’ve found myself in lately.”

              Her fellow Assassin chuckled.  “Never imagined you would have to sneak into your own castle?”

              Emma shook her head.  “The only way I see we are all going to get in is by using the bridge,” she said as she tapped her drawing with the stick.  “We’re going to go under it.”

—

              Every member of the Brotherhood of Assassins undergoes extensive physical training.  Not just so that their bodies are as much of weapons as the blades they wore, but also so they can access places most think impossible.  Her home was that impossible place and the only way she and her group of Assassins were going to gain access to it was going to be by climbing their way across the underside of its bridge.

              Emma’s plan, when she proposed it to her fellow Assassins, was not met with enthusiasm.  None, however, had any other ideas, so they all agreed it was their only option.  Just before dawn the next morning, Emma led her team to the base of the bridge.  As the genius behind this plan, she climbed up the inside of the archway first.

              When she reach the midway point, she curled her legs up and, with her feet flat on the stone, pushed off, launching herself across the gap to the other side.  She could feel her nails bending as she grasped at the stone before the metal hooks of her climbing gloves found purchase and halted her downward fall. Her heavy breathing was visible in the cold morning hair as she carefully positioned herself near the edge of the archway.  

              There, Emma waited.

              A whistle sounded through the air, telling Emma the coast was clear.  She scrambled out of the first archway and across the pillar to the next.  Once there, she repeated the leap from one wall to the next.  Then she waited again.

              A whistle and Emma swung her body out onto the side of the pillar.  This one was larger than the last and took more time to cross.  Emma’s heart beat in her chest the entire way, afraid one of the guards on patrol would look down and see her. However, no cries of alarm rose and within a minute, Emma was safe in the curse of the third and final archway.

              One more leap and Emma was across the final gap. After, she climbed down the wall until she was able to grasp of sturdy branch of a nearby tree and pull herself onto it.  From her perch, Emma watched as, one by one, the twenty Assassins she had recruited had their climbing skills put to the test.

              The fall would be deadly for anyone who lost his or her grip on the stone or was unable to find one after a jump.

              There were a few near misses, but after what felt like hours, every one of the Assassins had made it safely across the bridge.  After that, they traversed the trees that surrounded the walls of the castle until they were at its back.

              “Onward and upward,” Aziz murmured as they prepared to climb the exterior wall.

              Emma chuckled at him as she brushed moss off the stones, looking for good hand or footholds. Once she had found a few, she began her accent.  It was slow going.  The stones had been worn almost smooth by years of wind blowing water from lake upon them.  More than once, Emma had to dig in with the claws of her climbing gloves and make a hold where there were none to be found.  

              Emma’s muscles were shaking by the time she reached the battlements at the top of the wall.  She had no time to rest, however, when she heard the boots of a guard on patrol. With nowhere to go, Emma crouched and waited for the guard to come closer.  When he was finally within reach, she grasped both his ankles and gave a sharp pull.

              The guard went down with a thunk and Emma jumped across his body to plunge her blade into his neck.  He jerked under her when she pulled it free and blood gushed from the wound.  A moment later, he lay still.          

              Aziz joined her on the battlements as she was cleaning the guard’s blood off her blade.  After they stripped him of his armor so that one of the Assassins could use it as a disguise, they dropped his body off the wall.    

              Emma itched to get moving but she forced herself to wait until all twenty of her fellow Assassins had successfully climbed the wall.  After that, though, they split up.  The plan was for most of the Assassins to take out the black guards patrolling the castle.   She, Aziz, and two others, Olivia and Jacob, would deal with Regina.  

              Knowing Regina’s love of opulence, Emma guided her group toward the finest living quarters in the castle: the royal apartments.  They killed a dozen guards as they navigated the halls of the castle.  They stashed the bodies in empty rooms or behind decorations so that their brethren would be unlikely to stumble upon them and raise the alarm.  Emma tried not to think about doing this with Killian in Camelot as they did so.

              A pair of guards were outside the door that lead to the suite of rooms Emma shared with her parents and Henry.  They were quickly dispatched and their bodies dragged away as Emma reached out with a little of her magic to check for protective wards placed on the room.

              Finding none, Emma decided that it was unlikely Regina had taken-up residence in those.  Regardless of that, Emma wanted to be completely sure so she used her key and slowly crept into the sitting room beyond.  She had to keep herself from sneezing when her movements disturbed the fine layer of dust that had settled in the room.  No one had been in them for some time.  

              Contrary to the undisturbed sitting room, Emma found her own quarters in disarray. Her armoire hung open, her books were tossed about the room, and every single one of her gowns lay in shreds.

              “Was she searching for something? Or just taking out her frustrations?” Aziz asked as they took in the sight.

              “From what I know about Regina, it could easily be either,” Emma replied.  She lifted her mattress and pulled a small box out from underneath it.  Inside were the other ingredients Emma would need to lift the spell on Henry.  None were particularly rare or hard to come by, so even if Regina had found them it wouldn’t have been too much of an issue to find replacements, but Emma was glad she wouldn’t have too.  

              Just as Emma and her group were about to leave the royal apartments they heard footsteps in the hall.  The steps stopped outside the door to the sitting room, and Emma signaled her team to conceal themselves.  In a matter of seconds, all four of them were hidden behind various pieces of furniture and would not be seen by anyone entering through the door. Emma released her hidden blades in preparation as a key clicked in the lock.  

              The door opened and her son walked into the room.

              Emma forced herself to assess the situation, barely resisting the urge to jump from her hiding spot and wrap her son in her arms.  She wouldn’t put it past Regina to use Henry as bait. However, it was her mother who entered next, then her father.  Emma tensed when she saw a black guard enter the room after the three of them.  She relaxed, though, when the guard removed his helmet and she saw that it as Graham.  Since her family did not appear to be in distress, she figured he was acting on his own and not following Regina’s orders.  That was enough to convince Emma that it was safe to reveal herself.  She rushed from her hiding spot and wrapped her arms around Henry.

              “Mom!”

              “Emma!”

              “Sweetie!”

              Emma fell to her knees and pulled her son as close to her as possible.  A couple of tears fell as she buried her face in his shoulder.

              Her mother and father kneeled on either side of her and wrapped her in their arms.  For just a moment, Emma allowed herself to relax.  After so many months away, she was finally reunited with her family.

              “Emma, sweetie, what are you doing here?” Snow White whispered against her daughter.

              “Me?” Emma said through a laugh.  “What about you?  I thought Regina would have you locked in the dungeon!”

              “She did,” Graham said from behind Emma. “When I saw Assassins sneaking about, I released them.”

              Emma lifted her head and smiled at her friend. “Thank you,” she choked out.  

              Graham returned her smile.  “I was hoping they would be safe from any fighting here.”

              Emma studied her longtime friend and fellow Assassin.  Regina must have treated him well in the time he had been her captive; he showed no signs of having been starved or physically abused. He looked tired and his beard was a bit shaggy, but that was all.

              “Is it true that Regina has your heart?” she asked.

              Graham’s shoulders slumped and he nodded.

              Emma detangled herself from her Mother’s arms and approached Graham.  “Is it here in the castle?”

              “I believe so.  She has used it to influence my actions a couple of times since the takeover,” Graham answered.

              Emma frowned as she contemplated the implications of Regina having control of her ally.  Longtime friend that he was, at any moment, Graham could turn on her and her family.

              She laid a hand on Graham’s arm.  “I’m sorry, Graham,” she said to him, “Having you with any of us is too much of a risk.”  

              Graham sighed.  “I understand,” he said.

              Emma reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a sleeping potion tipped dart.  She knew Graham saw her action but he made no move to stop her.  If anything, he tilted his head to give her a better target.  Emma jabbed the dart into the curve of his neck.  He gave her a wild grin before the potion took effect and his body began to collapse.  She and Aziz, who had been standing behind him, help lower his body to the floor and position him comfortably.

              Emma ignored her Mother’s disapproving look as she took a moment to study her family.  Captivity had not been easy on them.  Her father had dark bruises under his eyes and more wrinkles than she remembered him having.  He also had a beard, which was not a look he usually favored, and even though its color was as light as the blonde hair on his head, she could see the grey hairs mixed in.  

              Her mother looked a little better, but not by much. She was far too pale, even for a woman known for her light complexion.  Her lips were dry and nearly bloodless except for a vivid red streak where one had been recently split.

              Only Henry looked no worse for wear, once Emma got past the dirty clothing he wore.  All three were in desperate need of a bath and fresh clothing.

              “Was there anyone else being kept in the dungeons with you?  Red? Or Belle?” Emma asked her parents. Though she had been predominantly worried about her parents, she had also been concerned with the fate of her friends and the other inhabitants of the castle.

              “Everyone loyal to your Mother and I was kept in the dungeons,” her father told her. “Belle ran off to the library the instant Graham released us.”

              “The library?”  Emma interrupted, incredulous.

              Snow White gave a soft smile.  “You know Belle.  She values her books more than she does her own life.  Red and Dorothy went with her to keep her safe.  Granny, the dwarves, and some of our guards said they were going to head to the armory.”

              Widow Lucas, or Granny as the inhabitants of the castle knew her, was Ruby’s grandmother and a Master Assassin.  She had been the one to assist Snow when she had been on the run from Regina and later establishing the Brotherhood’s foothold in Misthaven. Though elderly, she was still a force to be reckoned with, especially if she got her hands on a crossbow.  Emma was pleased that her mentor, even after weeks in the dungeon, was willing to take up arms to retake the castle.

              “There are sixteen Assassin’s in the castle working their way through Regina’s troops,” Emma explained to her parents. “I plan on confronting Regina.  It is long past time we dealt with her head on.”

              Snow White stood and brushed her hands down the ratty dress she wore.  “I’m coming with you.”

              “No!”

              Emma wasn’t sure who yelled louder, her or her father.  Regardless, Snow White only crossed her arms and glared at her husband and daughter.

              “I started this, long before you were born, Emma.  It is only fitting that I help end it,” Snow White stated.

              “This has moved far beyond that, Mom.  If Regina was after you, or your heart, she could have ended it as soon as she took the castle,” Emma argued.  Her father nodded in agreement.  “I believe the only reason she has kept you alive is so she can use you against me.”

              Her mother’s lips drew together in a tight line, but she didn’t argue.

              “Olivia, Jacob,” Emma called to the other two Assassins that had accompanied her besides Aziz.  “You two are going to take my parents and Henry to the stable and get them out of the castle.”

              Her father frowned at her.  “We should all escape while we still can,” he said.

              Snow White nodded solemnly in agreement.    

              Emma thought, for one instant, about leaving, but her mind flashed back to the sight of the _Morrigan_  burning in the cove.  Had all the men aboard died?  They may have been Templars, or in the service of the Templars, but had they deserved the deaths they had gotten?  And what about those on the _Aquila?_   Killian and his team?

              “I can’t leave with you,” Emma told her parents. “Men died so that I could get here today.  If we don’t succeed in retaking the castle, the Kingdom, their deaths would have been in vain.”  Emma fought tears as she spoke.

              Snow White grabbed Emma’s hand and gave it a squeeze.  Her father continued to frown, but he softly nodded his understanding.  

              Emma took a deep breath to compose herself before she turned back toward Olivia and Jacob.  “Hide in the forest and only return after another Assassin comes to bring you back.  If no one comes within a day, find a way to take them to Arandelle.”

              Olivia and Jacob nodded their acceptance of their orders.

              Emma kneeled down so that she was face to face with Henry.  “I need you to go where you’ll be safe, okay?”

              Henry nodded and Emma pulled him into her arms again.  Emma hated herself for being unable to protect him from Regina’s retribution.  He was too young to have dealt with all he had in his ten years.

 

 _\-------------------------_ _\-------------------------_

              “Please don’t do anything rash,” Emma whispered as she hugged her mother, who chuckled in response. Emma had grown up hearing stories about the adventures of young Snow White from her father.  She knew exactly what her mother capable of.  

              “I would never,” her mother admonished, though she wore a mischievous grin.

              Her father rolled his eyes.  “I promise to try and keep her out of trouble,” he said as he pulled Emma close. His hand cradled the back of her head, as it had always done, and Emma relaxed into his embrace.

              After allowing herself one final minute of familial comfort, Emma pulled back. At her nod, Olivia and Jacob guided her family from the royal suites.

              “May the Gods protect you,” Emma whispered to herself as she watched them go.

              With a sigh, Emma turned to Aziz.  “We’re going to the library.  Despite what my mother said, Belle wont risk her life over a couple of books.  It is likely there is something there she thinks can help with the situation.”

              “I hope so,” Aziz breathed as they made their way toward the library. “I wasn’t keen on the idea of taking on Queen Regina with just our wits and blades.”

              Emma let out a light chuckle.  Though she wouldn’t admit it, neither was she.

              They encountered only a couple of black guards, they easily dispatched, before Emma lead Aziz through one of the lesser-known entrances to the castle library. They entered cautiously, in case there were any of Regina’s men lurking within.  They followed the low murmur of voices until they came across Belle, Red, and Dorothy.  The three woman had taken a moment to change from their dungeon-grime covered rags. They all wore a mix of various Assassin uniform items, many in Red’s preferred colors of black and red, plus an assortment of weapons.  Even Belle had a dagger tucked into her belt.

              Red was glaring at the white crystal she held in her hand.  “What do you mean you aren’t sure if this will even work?”

              Dorothy was holding another crystal in front of a lantern and it glowed in the light.  “Is this fairy dust?”

              “Of a sort,” Emma said as she stepped from behind the shelf she had been concealed behind.  Both Belle and Dorothy startled at her sudden appearance, but Red only smiled. She’d evidently known Emma and Aziz had arrived.  

              Emma gestured to the two crystals that Belle had in front of her.  “These were developed by the Brotherhood as a way to incapacitate magic users.  When all four are crushed, the shield spell they hold will release and form between the four points.  No magic can be used within it.”

              “Except, the shield only lasts a couple of minutes,” Belle interjected.  “Less when used against powerful sorcerers or those who practice dark magic.”

              “So on Regina…” Dorothy’s voice trailed off.

              “A minute, maybe less,” Belle confirmed.

              The hidden blade on Aziz’s wrist snapped free with a soft click.  

              “A minute is all we need.”

—

              According to the information Red had overheard from the guards, Regina spent most of her time in the in the east wing of the castle, so that is where Emma decided the group would resume their search.  As the group of three Assassins, a librarian, and adventurer slowly traversed the corridors toward the east wing, Emma recalled the conversations she had had with Belle before they had left the library.

              She had cut straight to the point with her friend and had asked, “If I die, how long will Henry have to live?”  

              Belle’s brow had wrinkled.  “The spell we cast that bound Henry to your magic halted the progression of the curse Regina placed on him.  It has been draining your magical energy instead of his life force. Essentially, your death would be the same as if you ran out of magical energy to give.  The curse would start acting on Henry again.”

              “How long, Belle?”  As much as she usually enjoyed Belle’s very thorough explanations, she wasn’t in the mood for a magic lesson.

              “There is now way to be sure,” Belle eventually said. “Based on what I was able to learn of the curse, I believe Henry will have only a couple of weeks.”

              This, in Emma’s mind, was good news.  She had been extremely worried that Henry would die the instant her magical reserves could no longer sustain the spell that bound them, or if she were to die.  

              “Robert Gold is in Arandelle,” Emma told Belle, whose eye’s had widened in surprise.  “I already told my parents to go to Arandelle if they do not hear from me by tomorrow.  I need you to promise me, that if the battle with Regina appears to not be going in our favor, that you will join them.”

              “I can’t just abandon you!” Belle argued.

              Emma shook her head.  “You know the spell that will save Henry.  The ingredients we gathered are in my chambers.  Take them, and save my son.”

              It had taken some persuasion, but Belle had ultimately agreed to the request, which put Emma’s mind at ease.  Even if she failed to free her castle and kingdom from Regina’s grasp, Henry would be free of the curse and be able to live a long, happy life.  

              Emma was still wrapped up in these thoughts when Red raised her hand, signaling them all to stop.  Her friend crept forward, crouched low to the floor, and looked around the corner into the next corridor.  After a moment, she darted forward.  A surprised yell sounded before it was abruptly cut off.

              Emma rushed forward, Aziz and Dorothy at her heals. One black guard lay dead, his throat slashed and a large pool of blood forming below his body.  Red had the other pinned against the wall, his arm twisted behind his back.

              “Where is Regina hiding?” Red hissed near guard’s ear.

              The guard’s body bucked in attempt to dislodge Red, so Red twisted his arm further up his back.  Emma flinched when she heard a small pop and guard let out a grunt of pain.

              “Red…” Emma cautioned.  

              Her friend ignored her.  “Where is Regina hiding?”

              The guard muttered something Emma couldn’t hear, but whatever it was only made Red twist his arm harder.  Another pop sounded and the guard screamed.  

              “The council room!” He yelled through sobs of pain. Red released him and he dropped to his knees.  He gently cradled his arm against his body.  From the awkward angle, Emma knew that both his wrist and shoulder were dislocated.

              “Was that really necessary?” Belle said reproachfully.  

              Red shrugged.  “Would you rather we wander the halls like lost children?”

              “No, but…” Belle stuttered.

              Emma ignored the two of them as she knelt next to the guard.  She laid a hand on his shoulder but he jerked away from her touch with a whimper of pain.  His shoulder, and from the look of it, his wrist, were both dislocated.  With a sigh, Emma pressed the tip of a sleeping dark into the guard’s neck.  The drugged slumber would, for a time, spare him some pain.  

              “The council room is one floor above,” Emma said as she stood.  Her movement interrupted the glaring match that had begun between Red and Belle.

              “We should take the old servant’s stairwell,” Belle suggested.  “Very few people know of it, so I doubt Regina knows of its existence.”

              “And once we’re there?” Dorothy inquired.

              “The four of us with crystals will need to surround Regina as best we can before we crush them.”

              Aziz tapped his lips.  “There are columns in the council room, aren’t there?  One between each window?”

              Belle nodded.

              “Enough space between the column and the wall for a person to hide?” He inquired.

              Belle’s nose scrunched up.  “It’ll be a tight fit, but, yes.”

              Emma nodded in agreement.  She and Red used to hide behind the columns in the council room when they were younger, so they could spy on her parent’s meetings.  She’d still fit behind the columns, however, when Granny had used the room to train she and Red in moving silently between hiding spots after she had joined the Brotherhood.

              The plan set, Emma lead the group toward the rarely used servant staircase. Queen Snow did not conform to the belief that servants were not to be seen by the people they served, so few people made use of the small, confining staircase that connected the lower and higher levels of the castle.

              The interior of the stairwell was covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs and Emma had to suppress a shudder when her lantern revealed a spider skittering along the wall.  She remembered Killian’s disbelieving laugh when he had discovered her dislike of the eight-legged creatures one evening after the  _Jolly Roger_  had left Camelot.  She’d let out a rather shrill shriek when she had come across one in the hold, one afternoon after her shift watching Rumpelstiltskin.  Killian and Starkey had come running into the hold, thinking that the sorcerer had attacked her, only to discover her grinding the offending spider under her boot.

              The memory brought a smile to Emma’s face as she picked the lock on the door that led to the council room.  Even after hearing the final click of the lock releasing, Emma didn’t open the door immediately.  Instead, she grasped the collection of necklaces she wore and brought them to her lips.

              She laid a kiss on the golden rose that represented the magical connection she had to her son.  It was a relief to know that Henry would survive, at least for a time, even if she died fighting Regina.  

              The silver ring pressed against her lips as Emma whispered into the mermaid shell, “I love you, Killian Jones.  I don’t know where you are, if you can hear me, or if you are even alive, but know that I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!  
> Art by the amazing @cocohook38. Go visit her on Tumblr!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this story comes to an end, I must thank all of those who made it possible” @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way and moderating the CSBB. Her co-moderator @phiralovesloki and her were very understanding about the issues I ran into when writing this fic; broken computers, depression, and two chapter 10′s. 
> 
> And of course, to each and every person who commented, reblogged, liked, and shared this fic. All an author wants is for people to read and enjoy what they have written.

  _\-----------------------------_    _\-----------------------------_

              Vomit spattered across the sand; a disgusting mix of seawater, bile, and small chunks of the bread and oats Killian had had for breakfast. The smell of it made Killian heave again and blood dripped from the wound in his side as his muscles seized.

              Killian collapsed face first once his body was done expelling the contents of his stomach, as far from the mess he’d made as he could get.  He groaned as he pressed his hand against Cormac’s parting shot.  He could feel the bullet, so the wound wasn’t as deep as it could have been, but he would need to take care of it sooner rather than later.  

              Fighting against the vertigo, Killian forced himself to sit up and take stock of his situation.  Glancing around, he saw that he was on a large beach, a forest behind him and the Smuggler’s Cove nowhere in sight.  

_How did I get here?_

              The thought flitted across Killian’s mind.  He was too far up on the beach to have washed ashore, even if it had been high tide.  

              On edge, Killian reached for his sword, but his hand closed around nothing. He vaguely remembered being disarmed aboard the  _Morrigan_  and frowned; he’d liked that sword.

              “May I borrow your coat?” A high voice asked.  

              Killian glanced over his shoulder in the direction the question had come from. His hand dug through his pockets in hopes of finding a throwing knife or something to use as a weapon.  

              A pale face framed by wet red hair poked out from behind a large rock, a shy smile on her face.  Killian relaxed and returned her smile.

              “Ariel,” he said as he slowly shrugged out of the waterlogged Templar coat. A flare of pain along his back reminded him of the sword wound he’d gotten during the fight with Cormac.  “To what do I owe the pleasure of being rescued by the Queen of Vand?”

              Killian tossed the coat behind him and kept his eye’s forward until Ariel kneeled next to him.  A mermaid by birth, Ariel had fallen in love with Prince of Vand.  She’d run afoul of Regina shortly after and the Queen had stripped her of her voice in punishment.  Ariel’s search for a way to break the curse had taken her to Neverland, to consult with the mermaids of that realm.  That was where Killian had met her, only a few months after his own arrival.  They’d formed a tentative alliance for about a year, until Ariel had determined that Neverland didn’t have what she needed. He’d been glad to learn, upon returning from Neverland, that Ariel had somehow succeeded and married her Prince.

              “Vand has a standing policy not to get involved in Templar and Assassin disputes,” she said. “But Snow White is a good friend of mine, so I have been keeping an eye on the situation.  When I saw the  _Nautilus_ , I followed.  I didn’t expect to find you floating in the wreckage of a Templar ship.  I thought you’d left the Order after your brother’s death.”  Ariel gave Killian a stern, yet inquisitive look.

              “I did,” Killian answered.  “I was… assisting the Brotherhood with getting through the blockade.”  As Killian spoke, he tore the sleeves off his shirt.  One he folded and pressed against the wound on his side.  The other he wrapped around his torso and Ariel tied it over the makeshift bandage to hold it in place.   The pain made Killian light headed and Ariel gave him a worried look as he laid backwards.

              “We need to get you out of the sun.”  Ariel grabbed Killian’s arm and helped him to his feet.  Leaning heavily on the small woman, Killian stumbled the twenty or so feet to the edge of the forest.  Ariel propped him up against the trunk of a tree.  He hissed in pain as the bark dug into the wound on his back.

              “Nemo has a surgeon aboard the  _Nautilus_.  Do you think you could… guide them here?” Killian asked.  

              Ariel’s eyes were wide as she nodded.  “As fast as I can.”  

              Killian closed his eyes as Ariel removed the coat she had borrowed and laid it over him.  He heard her run across the beach and then a splash as she returned to the ocean.  He leaned his head against the tree behind him and fought against the urge to fall asleep.  Between the blood loss and the afternoon sun, it was harder than anticipated.

              Jerking awake after dozing off, Killian found the sun much lower in the sky. Almost dusk, if he gauged its position correctly.  He squinted, hoping to see sign of the  _Nautilus._ He was already feeling cold and sunset would mean a drastic drop in temperature.  He didn’t think he had the strength to build a fire in the forest.  

              A flash of light caught Killian’s eye. Squinting, his heart jumped when he saw that it was the sun reflecting off the hull of the  _Nautilus._   A long boat was making its way toward the beach, Captain Nemo at its front.  Killian couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.  

_Saved from death once again._

              When the longboat reached the shore, Nemo jumped from the prow.  He raised a hand in greeting as he made his way across the sand.

              An arrow pierced through his shoulder.

              “No!” Killian croaked.

              A few brave sailors ran forward and grabbed their Captain, hauling him backwards toward the longboat.  More arrows rained from the sky.  One pierced a sailor through the thigh and he fell, screaming, to the beach.  One of his compatriots picked him up and tossed him roughly into boat.  

              Killian sighed as he watched the sailors push the longboat off the beach and away from the sudden attack.  He gripped the one knife he’d found tucked in the pockets of the Templar coat in his hand and waited for whoever was in the forest to come for him.  Between it and his hook, he planned to do some damage before they took him out.

              Footsteps came from his left.  

              When a leg appeared next to him, Killian hooked his arm behind it and jerked forward.  The person fell with an oomph and Killian rolled on top of them.  It took Killian only a second to recognize the man below him as a Templar and he buried him hook in the man’s neck.  

              Hands grasped Killian’s shoulders and yanked him back.  He lashed out.  The knife cut across the shins of the person next to him.  A hiss of pain and then one of the legs came up to level a kick at the side of his head.

              Killian’s vision went black.

—

              “This is going to hurt,” was all the warning Killian got before one of his captors, Mulan, poured a liberal amount of his rum on the wound on his back. Killian hissed in pain and bit down on the bit of leather she had provided him just for that purpose. After, Mulan wiped softly across his back with a bit of boiled cloth.  

              “This needs to be closed,” she told him.

              Unable to see his injury, Killian had no choice but to agree to her assessment. He spat out the leather and pushed out his arm, opening and closing his hand.  His flask was placed in it and Killian took a hefty swallow before he passed it back to Mulan.  He placed the leather back in his mouth and then gave her a nod.

              Mulan went slowly, giving Killian time between each stitch to deal with the pain. It was during one quick break that another of the Templars that had captured him came up.  It was Little John, one of the members of Robin Hood’s Merry Men.  Killian had always gotten on well with the large man, when he had been a Templar. Now, the man looked at him as one usually did when staring at a pile of horse dung one just stepped in.  

              “Why are you bothering?  Grandmaster Regina is only going to kill him,” he asked.

              “Do you want to tell Regina that we captured one of the Assassin’s, but let him die before she could interrogate him?” Mulan retorted.  

              Little John snorted.  “Jones here isn’t an Assassin.  He was a Templar, years ago, before he betrayed the Order.  There is a bounty on that bastard’s head.”

              Killian forced himself to breath as Mulan applied another careful stitch as she replied.  “I don’t care who his is.  Our mission was to collect anyone who survived the battle at the cove, Templar or Assassin, and bring them to her.”  

              Another of the Templars, who Killian vaguely remembered to be called Alan-of-Dale, made a sound of disgust.  “A waste of our talents.”

              It was no challenge for Killian to imagine the exasperated look on Mulan’s face. In the short time since they had captured him, he had learned that Mulan did not fit in well with The Merry Men. Not because of her gender, no, but because she didn’t suffer fools.  And without Robin to lead them, The Merry Men were no more than a group of Templar fools.

              After an hour or so, by Killian’s estimate, Mulan was finished closing both of his major wounds.  Afterwards, he was piled into the back of a wagon with two well-armed Templars as guards. Killian made himself as comfortable as he could, though the bounce of the wagon along the rough road irritated his wounds.  

              Killian made no attempts to escape from their custody.  From Mulan and Little John’s conversation, he knew that they were taking him to Regina, who was at the castle of Misthaven.  Which was exactly where Emma was heading and therefore, where he wanted to be.  

              They arrived at the castle after a day and a half on the road.  As he was marched through the halls of the castle, Killian thought about how be could help Emma retake the castle.  As long as Regina didn’t kill him on sight, of course. He knew he was far from fighting fit, but his wounds were healing clean.                   

              Killian was so absorbed in his machinations that he didn’t notice Mulan on his left side.  He jerked his arm back when she grabbed his brace, but she held it firm in her grasp. He gaped as she slipped a small knife between its straps.  He was so shocked that he didn’t get a chance to ask what she was doing before she slipped away.  

              The guards outside a large double door stopped them and Killian turned his arm so that no one would notice the new accessory in his brace.  

              “The Merry Men are here to see the Grandmaster,” Little John informed them.

              One of the guards tilted his head at Killian.  “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

              Killian rolled his eyes as he was escorted into Regina’s presence.  He hoped the Queen could come up with a more original response to his reappearance.

              She did not disappoint.

              Queen Regina barely looked up from the map she was studying to instruct someone to tie him to one of the many columns in the room.  Mulan did the honors, tying him at the elbows to accommodate his lack of hand.  It wrenched his shoulders backwards, which exasperated the cut on his back, but it left his hand free to draw her hidden gift should he wish.  

              Little John laid his hook on the table in front of Regina and then the Merry Men were dismissed.  Regina continued to study the map laid out in front of her.  While she ignored him, Killian studied the Queen.  It had been many years since he had last seen her during his revenge-driven murder spree.  Back then, she’d favored riding outfits and spent as much time as she could on horseback. A far cry from the black leather, velvet, and feather get up she wore now.  He wondered how many ravens had died to make the train of her coat.  

              Regina was close to Killian’s age, he knew, and the years had sharpened her features.  Gone was the slight softness of her face.  It had been replaced by sharp cheekbones and perfectly coifed hair that gleamed in the candlelight. She was nothing short of beautiful, much in the same way he consider a black viper pretty, despite its deadly venom.

              “So the Princess is coming to retake the castle,” Killian heard Queen Regina mutter and his heart dropped.

              Emma, he knew, had hoped to take the Templar Grandmaster by surprise. Without her magic, Emma knew she would need any advantage she could get if she had a hope of defeating the trespassing Queen.  

              Killian slipped the knife in his brace free and angled it toward the ropes that bound him.  If he could get out of here, he could find Emma and warn her.  Now that they were in Misthaven, they could come up with another plan to free her family from the castle.

              Regina chuckled and Killian returned his attention to her as she approached him.  He paused his efforts to escape so that she wouldn’t notice the movement.  “Don’t look so surprised, Jones.  I’ve known that Princess Emma was coming for some time now.  Your ship,” Regina paused, giving him an arrogant grin before she continued, “Your former ship made port in Blanchard and its new Captain traded the information in return for my favor.”

              Killian vowed to hunt down James and gut him like the yellow-bellied swine he was when this was all over.

              With a twist of her wrist, his hook appeared in Regina’s hand.  She laid the tip of it on his chest, just above his heart.  

              “Does she really think she can defeat me with only a handful of Assassins?” Regina asked as she pressed the sharp point of his hook into his flesh.  Killian ignored the pain, and the question.

              Regina smirked.  “No matter.  I have the upper hand.  My sources tell me that the two of you grew quite close on your journey to Camelot and back.”

              Killian clenched his teeth.

              “What do you think the little Princess will do, when she finds out I have you as my captive?” Regina drew the tip of the hook down his chest, opening a shallow cut.

              “With the lives of her parents and son hanging in the balance, and the fate of her Kingdom, do you really think she’ll sacrifice anything to save you?”

              Regina had leaned in close to whisper her taught in his ear, so when she began to pull back, Killian snapped his head forward. His forehead collided with the Queen’s nose with a satisfying crack.  It was short lived, however, for a moment later a sharp pain radiated through his chest. He looked down and the blood drained from his face when he saw that it wasn’t his hook imbedded in his chest, as he expected, but Regina’s hand.

              She grinned at him as she yanked her hand out and held his heart up for him to see.  

              “Let’s find out, shall we?”

               _Fuck._

—

              The next day, after spending a sleepless night in one of the castles guest rooms, Killian found himself once again tied to a column.  The guard who tied him had been inexperienced at restraining someone with only one hand, so bindings were easy to cut with the knife Mulan had given him.  Not that he thought his escape would do much good, since Regina had his heart, but he wanted the option open to him.    

              Around midmorning, based on the diffuse sunlight coming in through the windows, a guard came to report that bodies had been turning up across the castle.  Most killed with single stab wounds.

              Regina snapped the guard’s neck with a careless wave of her hand and the body fell at her feet.  She reached within her ornate coat and pulled out a heart.  “Come to the council room,” she said before slipping it back into a pocket.

              Her heels click loudly on the stone floor as she crossed the length of the room to stand in front of Killian. “Do you know how many Assassin’s the Princess has with her?” she asked.

              Killian stared solemnly ahead, ignoring her.

              He gasped when he feels a sharp pain in his chest and he looks down to see his heart, red with liberal swirls of black, in her hand.

              “I said, do you know how many Assassin’s the Princess has with her?”

              “Yes,” Killian choked out.

              “How many?”

              Killian clenched his teeth, fighting the magical compulsion, but Regina only squeezed his heart tighter until he relented and gasped out “Twenty.”

              Regina raised one perfectly shaped brow. “Twenty?  I had no idea there were so many Assassin’s in Arandelle.”

              James, Killian decided, must not have known enough about the Assassins and Templars to mention the  _Nautilus_ to Regina.  If he had, he would have known that the ship’s presence in Arandelle would have been information of some value.

              “How did she plan to get…” Regina started to say before she cut off.  Her right arm snapped up and a dangerous smile spread across her face.  

              Killian turned his head to see one of the Assassin’s Emma had brought with her standing a couple paces away, frozen in place.  Sara, he thought her name was.  

              Regina approached Sara and ran a nail down the woman’s terrified face. She shoved her other hand into Sara’s chest and pulled a bright red heart. 

              “You’re young,” Regina said as she studied the heart.

              Then she crushed it in her fist.

              Killian flinched when Sara’s body collapsed to the floor.  Regina dropped the dust from her heart on top of her body. With a thoughtful look on her face, Regina pulled a heart from her pocket, one that did not have enough darkness to be his.    

              Regina marched over to a large mirror on the other side of the room. “Sydney, find me Graham,” she demanded.

              Killian stared at Sara’s body and fought against his urge to pull his hidden knife and plunge the blade between Regina’s shoulder blades.  He knew he wouldn’t get more than a couple of feet before his body joined the fallen assassin’s.  

              Absorbed with his inner battle, Killian almost missed the words that floated up from the mermaid shell around his neck.  

              “I love you, Killian Jones.  I don’t know where you are, if you can hear me, or if you are even alive, but know that I love you.”

              After confirming that Regina was still at the mirror, Killian pulled his hand free and brought the shell up to his lips.

              “Emma, Regina knows you’re in the castle.  She’s prepared for you.”

              Killian dropped the shell and returned his arm to its previous location just as Regina turned from mirror.

              “It seems the Princess has disabled my Huntsman,” Regina fumed as she crossed the room.  She held the other heart from her pocket her hand.  “Such a pity.”

              Dust floated to the ground in front of her.

              Killian wondered if somewhere in the castle, a person had just dropped to the ground, inexplicably dead.

              Emma’s voice floated up from the shell again.  “Killian, if you can still hear me, tap your foot,” she said.

              Killian tapped his foot.

              “If you can get free, tap your foot again.”

              He tapped his foot again.

              “If Regina has taken your heart, tap it again.”

              Reluctantly, he tapped his foot again.

              A colorful collection of curse words issued from the shell and Killian had to suppress his grin.  

              Regina was pouring a glass of wine from the decanter on the table when Emma stepped out from behind one of the room’s pillars. She rushed forward, her sword pointed aimed at Regina’s back.  Regina sidestepped at the last moment, avoiding a killing blow, but Emma redirected her strike to score a long cut across the Queen’s upper arm.

              Regina scowled at the wound before waving her hand over it.  When the purple smoke cleared, her flesh showed no sign of the injury.

              “Princess,” Regina greeted Emma.

              Killian’s heart beat loudly in his chest.  Emma looked pale and had dark circles under her eyes.  Her blonde hair was braided in a crown around her head and her waistcoat was splattered with blood.  

              “It’s over, Regina.  All your men are dead.”

              Regina’s laugh echoed off the stone of the room.  A fireball formed in her hand.

              “Do you really think I need those worthless solders to keep this castle?” 

              Emma summersaulted under the path of the fireball when Regina threw it at her. She came out of her crouch with her sword aimed at Regina’s legs, but the Queen had transported herself out of the way in a puff of smoke.  She reappeared a few feet away, another fireball burning in her hand.

              A rush of wind moved through the room and the fireball sputtered out.

              Regina blinked down at her hand.  Her fingers flexed as she tried to summon another fireball, but none appeared. Regina glared at Emma, and then smirked as she reached into her coat and pulled out Killian’s heart.

              “Hold, Princess, or your lover dies.”

              Emma froze.  Her eyes met Killian’s over Regina’s shoulder and he gave her a small nod.

              “I must say, I was rather disappointed when I’d heard you’d taken up with a pirate.  It was bad enough, your mother marry that worthless shepherd.  Perhaps a taste for low-bred men runs in the family?  Remind me again who the father of your bastard is?” Regina taunted Emma as she made a show of inspecting Killian’s heart.

              Killian sneaked forward in a crouch as quietly as he could, Mulan’s knife gripped lightly in his hand.  When he was close enough, he stood and laid the blade along Regina’s throat.  He pressed it against her skin just hard enough to draw a few drops of blood.

              “She’s all yours, love,” Killian said.

              Emma nodded and stepped forward, the hidden blade on her right arm extended. But just before she could strike the killing blow, Killian was flung backwards.  His back hit one of the columns and he had to fight to remain conscious as darkness overwhelmed his vision.

              “Killian!” He heard Emma scream.  

              He lifted his head.  Emma was kneeling on the ground, blood dripping from a wound on her forehead. Regina stood a few feet away, a fireball dancing on her fingertips.

              “Was that it?  Your big plan to take me out?” Regina asked.  “Rid me of my magic and stick a knife in me?”                

              Aziz appeared at Killian’s side.  The young man helped Killian to his feet and tried to get him to move, but Killian shoved him off.  “Help Emma!” He yelled as he leaned his body against the wall.  Aziz rolled his eyes before moving to follow his command. Aziz rushed forward at the same time as another Assassin, which Killian recognized as Emma’s friend from Alexandria, Red, attacked from Regina’s other side.

              Regina flung both her hands out.  Both Red and Aziz froze on the spot.  With a satisfied grin, Regina stepped forward and grabbed Emma by the hair, forcing her head up.  She held Killian’s heart in front of her face and slowly began to squeeze.

              “Watch, Princess, as your friends die,” Regina sneered.  “All because of you.”

              Killian fell to his knees and screamed as a sharp pain radiated through his chest.

 _\-----------------------_ _\------------------------_

              “No!” Emma screamed.  “Take my heart instead!”

              Regina stared at Emma, her head tilted in thought.  After a moment, the pain in Killian’s chest lessened.  

              “No, Emma,” Killian croaked.  He tried to stand, to make his way to Emma.  “No!”

              Emma glanced in Killian’s direction and gave him a sad smile.  Then she took a deep breath and plunged her own hand into her chest.  She pulled it out, her heart a beautiful dark red with swirls of black, and held it out to Regina.

              An arrow came out of nowhere and pierced through Regina’s hand.  

              A moment later, a small silver bean landed between Emma and Regina.  A portal began to form just as the first drop of Regina’s blood fell.  

              Not wasting her chance, Emma reached out and grabbed Killian’s heart from Regina’s hand.  She flung her body as far from the portal as she could.  She let go of the hearts in her hands and they rolled across the stone floor as Emma’s legs descended into the portal.  

              Mustering all the strength he had, Killian dashed forward.  He grabbed Emma’s arm at the same time as a small woman with dark hair and a quiver on her back grabbed the other.  Together, they pulled until they had Emma clear of the portal. The dark haired woman gathered Emma into her arms and hugged her tight.  With their two faces to close together, Killian could see the physical resemblance between the two.  Emma was safe with her mother, so Killian turned his attention to Regina.  

              The Queen’s hands scrambled for a hold on the edge of the portal.  No one in the room moved as the portal started to shrink.

              “This isn’t over!” Regina screamed as the portal closed in around her.

              Red approached and looked directly in Regina’s eyes.  “Yes, your majesty, it is.”

              The portal closed.

              Killian collapsed onto his back and breathed a sigh of relief.  Before he could take the time to process the fact that Regina was gone, Emma flung herself upon him.

              “What are you even doing here?” She exclaimed as she covered his face with kisses.

              Killian laughed and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.  “It’s a long story, love,” he told her.  He buried his face in her hair and took a deep breath.  

              Someone coughed and Killian and Emma both looked up to find her mother standing over them.  In her hands, she held two hearts.  Emma sat up and took the hearts from her mother.

              Side by side, the two hearts were nearly identical. Each pulsed a bright red but had liberal swirls of black.  

              “I…don’t know which is which,” Emma said, wide-eyed.

              Killian sat up and reached out to close his hands over Emma’s own, covering the two hearts.

              “It doesn’t matter.  My heart belongs to you.”

—

              A week after defeating Regina, Emma stood on the same spot where she had offered the Queen her heart and prepared the spell that would break the curse on Henry. She and Belle had spent the better part of the day preparing the potion that now sat in a large cast iron brazier. Emma lowered the end of a burning candle into the bowl and softly blew on the small flames until all the wood caught fire.  The scent of pine filled the room.  

              “Once we add the blood and the fire has burned down, Henry has to drink the potion, right?”  Emma asked Belle.

              The royal librarian had an exasperated look on her face when she answered. “For the fifth time, yes.”

              Emma heard Killian’s badly disguised chuckle and shot a glare in his direction.  He, her parents, and Henry had gathered on the far side of the room to watch the proceedings.  Red stood some distance away with Rumpelstiltskin, who had arrived from Arandelle that morning aboard the  _Narwhal_.

              Emma picked up a small dagger and slid the blade across her palm, creating a cut almost identical to the one she had given herself at Jenny’s graveside.  Blood filled the wound and Emma moved to hold her hand over the burning brazier.  The fire hissed as her blood dripped into the flames and the smell of copper overwhelmed the room.  Belle’s nose wrinkled in distaste as she cleaned the blade of the dagger.  

              Belle indicated that Red should bring the sorcerer forward and Red gave the man a hard shove between the shoulder blades.  He glared at her, but Red just smiled.  Once he was next to the brazier, the Dark One lifted his arms and shook the squid-ink manacles that still bound his wrists.

              As Emma unlocked the cuffs, she saw Killian’s fist tighten on the hilt of the magical dagger that controlled the sorcerer.  He would only use its magic if Rumpelstiltskin tried to flee before completing his part of the spell to free Henry from Regina’s curse.  

              However, Rumpelstiltskin held out his hand and allowed Belle to cut across it. Because his unnaturally dark blood was slow to flow, so Belle had him open and close his hand as he held it over the brazier. Finally, a couple of drops fell into the flames.  

              The fire tripled in size, forcing Emma to take a step back.  When it subsided, all that was left in the brazier was the small clay bowl Emma had placed amongst the wood at the beginning of the spell.  

              “Was that it?” Rumpelstiltskin asked as one of Red secured the manacles around his wrists.  She would see that he was safely returned to the dungeon.

              Emma pulled the bowl from the ashes, surprised to find it cool to the touch.  Small bits of herbs floated on the top of the potion it contained.  

              “Henry,” Emma called, beckoning her son forward. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder as she handed him the bowl.  “I doubt this is going to taste pleasant.”

              Henry sniffed the concoction.  “It smells like cinnamon.”  He brought the bowl to his lips and quickly drank its contents.  His face scrunched up and he coughed.  A shiver moved through his body.

              “Gross,” he exclaimed.  He stuck out his tongue and Emma couldn’t suppress a small laugh at his youthful antics.

              “How do we know if it worked?” Snow White asked from where she and David had watched the spellcasting.  

              Emma looked to Belle, who studied the book in which they had found the spell.  “Once we undo the spell that is binding Henry to Emma’s magic, he should be able to tell us.”

              Emma took a deep breath before removing the rose necklace she had worn for the past few years.  Once the spell between the two of them was broken, there would be no going back.  If they had managed to break the curse, Henry would be able to live a long and healthy life. If they hadn’t…

              Henry would die.

              Emma pulled her son into her arms.  She kissed the top of his head as she muttered  _I love you_  over and over again against his hair.  

              “Mom,” Henry whined after a minute.

              “Okay, okay,” she said, letting him go.  She laid the golden rose in her still bleeding palm and closed her hand over it.  Eyes closed, she mentally reached out and found the small bit of her magic that was housed in the charm, connected to her by a small, glowing thread. She slowly pulled on that thread drew her magic back into herself.

              When the final bit of magic left the charm, the spell broke.

              She opened her eyes and saw that Henry was grinning ear to ear.

              “It worked!” He yelled, jumping up and down. “I feel… I feel amazing!”

              Henry threw his arms around her stomach for a quick hug before running over to his grandparents.  Emma swayed on her feet.  A leather-clad arm wrapped around her waist to steady her.

              “You alright, love?” Killian asked.  His face was pinched in worry.

              Emma leaned into his embrace.

              “I’m fine,” she told him.  “Just… overwhelmed, I think.”

              Killian chuckled and looked over at where Henry was begging his grandfather to spar with him.  “Understandable.  You’ve saved your son and your kingdom from a dreadful woman’s revenge.  I think it’ll take some time to process it all.”

              Emma frowned at the mention of Regina.  Though it had been over a week since the Queen had been defeated, Emma had yet to figure out where the magic bean that had opened the portal had come from. She has spoken to everyone who had been in the council chamber at the time but no one had had any idea.  

              “She’s not coming back, love,” Killian whispered.  Emma looked up at him and allowed herself a moment to get lost in the love that shone in his eyes.  “Regina is gone and she cannot hurt you or your family ever again.”

              Emma pitched her voice low so that her parent’s and son did not hear her reply, “But she is still alive and we don’t know where she is!  She could get hold of bean, or some other way to travel realms and come back!”

              Belle, however, was standing within earshot. She closed the spell book she had still been reading and closed her eyes for a moment, before saying, “It was me.”

              Killian and Emma turned in unison toward the librarian, Emma’s mouth agape and Killian’s eyebrows high on his forehead.

              “And trust me, she won’t be coming back.  I sent her to the land without magic.”

              Emma blinked a couple of times before asking, “Where did you get a magic bean?”

              Belle sighed.  “I’ve had it for years.  I… stole it, from my husband.  Just before I left him.”

              Emma stared at Belle in shock.  The royal librarian had been in Misthaven for nearly ten years and had never once mentioned having been married.  

              “My father needed money to fight off the ogres attacking our kingdom, so he arranged for me to marry Gaston, the prince of a rich neighboring kingdom in exchange for gold.”  Belle busied herself cleaning up the supplies they’d used to cast break Regina’s curse as she talked.  “He was a cruel, disgusting man.  So I stole the bean from his kingdom’s treasury and ran away.  I had intended to use it if he ever found me.”

              Killian nodded in appreciation.  He’d come to like Belle in the short time he’d been in Misthaven. He’d spent the first few days after the battle with Regina on forced bedrest due to his collection of injuries. Emma had arranged for her to bring him a number of books to read while he was convalescing.   “He never has?”

              Belle smiled.  “Gaston had me declared dead and found himself a bride much more to his taste within six months of my departure.  I doubt he even remembers me by now.”

              “Belle… I had no idea,” Emma said.

              Her friend shrugged.  “We all have things in our past we would rather forget.  I’d much rather concentrate on my future.”

              On that, Emma had no problem agreeing.  She leaned her head on Killian’s chest as she watched her son and parents.

              “That sounds like a great idea.”

 _\------------------------------_ _\------------------------------_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter art by @cocohook38. Everyone should go visit her on Tumblr


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